/hjC^yiry-^ 


THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 


THE 


LIGHT    OF    ASIA; 

OR, 

The  Great  Renunciation 

(MAHABHINISHKRAMANA). 

BEING 

THE  LIFE  AND  TEACHING   OP  GAUTAMA, 

Jprince  of  InDia  anlr  JFountJtr  of  Butitiljisnx 

(as    told     in     verse     by    an     INDIAN     BUDDHIST). 


BY 

EDWIN   ARNOLD,  M.A. 
// 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1879. 


universitv  press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


THIS    VOLUME 


IS     DUTIFULLY    INSCRIBED    TO 


THE   SOVEREIGN,  GRAND  MASTER,  AND  COMPANIONS 


OF 


3rf)e  IHost  lEialteH  ©rUcr  of  t\)Z  Star  of  CnDia 


BY 


THE    AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


In  the  following  Poem  I  have  sought,  by  the  medium 
of  an  imaginary  Buddhist  votary,  to  depict  the  life  and 
character  and  indicate  the  philosophy  of  that  noble 
hero  and  reformer,  Prince  Gautama  of  India,  the 
founder  of  Buddhism. 

A  generation  ago  little  or  nothing  was  known  in 
Europe  of  this  great  faith  of  Asia,  which  had  never- 
theless existed  during  twenty-four  centuries,  and  at  this 
day  surpasses,  in  the  number  of  its  followers  and  the 
area  of  its  prevalence,  any  other  form  of  creed.  Four 
hundred  and  seventy  millions  of  our  race  live  and  die  in 
the  tenets  of  Gautama ;  and  the  spiritual  dominions  of 
this  ancient  teacher  extend,  at  the  present  time,  from 
Nepaul  and  Ceylon  over  the  whole  Eastern  Peninsula 
to  China,  Japan,  Thibet,  Central  Asia,  Siberia,  and 
even  Swedish  Lapland.  India  itself  might  fairly  be 
included  in  this  magnificent  empire  of  belief,  for 
though  the  profession  of  Buddhism  has  for  the  most 
part  passed  away  from  the  land  of  its  birth,  the  mark 


via  PREFACE. 

of  Gautama's  sublime  teaching  is  stamped  ineffaceably 
upon  modern  Brahmanism,  and  the  most  characteristic 
habits  and  convictions  of  the  Hindus  are  clearly  due 
to  the  benign  influence  of  Buddha's  precepts.  More 
than  a  third  of  mankind,  therefore,  owe  their  moral 
and  religious  ideas  to  this  illustrious  prince,  whose 
personality,  though  imperfectly  revealed  in  the  existing 
sources  of  information,  cannot  but  appear  the  highest, 
gentlest,  holiest,  and  most  beneficent,  with  one  excep- 
tion, in  the  history  of  Thought.  Discordant  in  frequent 
particulars,  and  sorely  overlaid  by  corruptions,  inven- 
tions, and  misconceptions,  the  Buddhistical  books  yet 
agree  in  the  one  point  of  recording  nothing  —  no  single 
act  or  word — which  mars  the  perfect  purity  and  tender- 
ness of  this  Indian  teacher,  who  united  the  truest  prince- 
ly qualities  with  the  intellect  of  a  sage  and  the  pas- 
sionate devotion  of  a  martyr.  Even  M.  Barth^lemy  St. 
Hilaire,  totally  misjudging,  as  he  does,  many  points  of 
Buddhism,  is  well  cited  by  Professor  Max  Miiller  as 
saying  of  Prince  Siddartha,  "  Sa  vie  n'a  point  de  tache. 
Son  constant  hdroisme  ^gale  sa  conviction  ;  et  si  la 
th^orie  qu'il  pr^conise  est  fausse,  les  exemples  person- 
nels qu'il  donne  sont  krdprochables.  II  est  le  modele 
achev6  de  toutes  les  vertus  qu'il  prcche ;  son  abnega- 
tion, sa  charity,  son  inalterable  douceur  ne  se  dcmentent 
point  un  seul  instant.  ...   II  prepare  silencieusement 


PREFACE.  IX 

sa  doctrine  par  six  ann^es  de  retraite  et  de  meditation  ; 
il  la  propage  par  la  seule  puissance  de  la  parole  et  de 
la  persuasion  pendant  plus  d'un  demi-siecle,  et  quand 
il  -meurt  entre  les  bras  de  ses  disciples,  c'est  avec  la 
s6r6nite  d'un  sage  qui  a  pratique  le  bien  toute  sa  vie, 
et  qui  est  assure  d'avoir  trouv6  le  vrai."  To  Gautama 
has  consequently  been  given  this  stupendous  conquest 
of  humanity ;  and  —  though  he  discountenanced  ritual, 
and  declared  himself,  even  when  on  the  threshold  of 
Nirvana,  to  be  only  what  all  other  men  might  become 
—  the  love  and  gratitude  of  Asia,  disobeying  his  man- 
date, have  given  him  fervent  worship.  Forests  of  flowers 
are  daily  Jaid  upon  his  stainless  shrines,  and  countless 
millions  of  lips  daily  repeat  the  formula,  "  I  take  refuge 
in  Buddha !  " 

The  Buddha  of  this  poem  —  if,  as  need  not  be  doubted, 
he  really  existed  —  was  born  on  the  borders  of  Nepaul, 
about  620  B.C.,  and  died  about  543  B.C.  at  Kusinagara 
in  Oudh.  In  point  of  age,  therefore,  most  other  creeds 
are  youthful  compared  with  this  venerable  religion,  which 
has  in  it  the  eternity  of  a  universal  hope,  the  immortal- 
ity of  a  boundless  love,  an  indestructible  element  of  faith 
in  final  good,  and  the  proudest  assertion  ever  made  of 
human  freedom.  The  extravagances  which  disfigure 
the  record  and  practice  of  Buddhism  are  to  be  referred 
to  that  inevitable  degradation  which  priesthoods  always 


X  PREFACE. 

inflict  upon  great  ideas  committed  to  their  charge.  The 
power  and  sublimity  of  Gautama's  original  doctrines 
should  be  estimated  by  their  influence,  not  by  their  in- 
terpreters ;  nor  by  that  innocent  but  lazy  and  cere- 
monious church  which  has  arisen  on  the  foundations  of 
the  Buddhistic  Brotherhood  or  "  Sangha." 

I  have  put  my  poem  into  a  Buddhist's  mouth,  because, 
to  appreciate  the  spirit  of  Asiatic  thoughts,  they  should 
be  regarded  from  the  Oriental  point  of  view ;  and 
neither  the  miracles  which  consecrate  this  record,  nor 
the  philosophy  which  it  embodies,  could  have  been 
otherwise  so  naturally  reproduced.  The  doctrine  of 
Transmigration,  for  instance  —  startling  to  modern 
minds  —  was  established  and  thoroughly  accepted  by 
the  Hindus  of  Buddha's  time ;  that  period  when  Jerusa- 
lem was  being  taken  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  when  Nineveh 
was  falling  to  the  Medes,  and  Marseilles  was  founded 
by  the  Phocaeans.  The  exposition  here  ofi^ered  of  so 
antique  a  system  is  of  necessity  incomplete,  and  —  in 
obedience  to  the  laws  of  poetic  art  —  passes  rapidly  by 
many  matters  philosophically  most  important,  as  well 
as  over  the  long  ministry  of  Gautama.  But  my  purpose 
has  been  obtained  if  any  just  conception  be  here  con- 
veyed of  the  lofty  character  of  this  noble  prince,  and  of 
the  general  purport  of  his  doctrines.  As  to  these  there 
has  arisen  prodigious  controversy  among  the  erudite. 


PREFACE.  XI 

who  will  be  aware  that  I  have  taken  the  imperfect 
Buddhistic  citations  much  as  they  stand  in  Spence 
Hardy's  work,  and  have  also  modified  more  than  one 
passage  in  the  received  narratives.  The  views,  how- 
ever, here  indicated  of  "Nirvana,"  "Dharma,"  "Karma," 
and  the  other  chief  features  of  Buddhism,  are  at  least 
the  fruits  of  considerable  study,  and  also  of  ^  firm  con- 
viction that  a  third  of  mankind  would  never  have  been 
brought  to  believe  in  blank  abstractions,  or  in  Nothing- 
ness as  the  issue  and  crown  of  Being. 

Finally,  in  reverence  to  the  illustrious  Promulgator 
of  this  "Light  of  Asia,"  and  in  homage  to  the  many 
eminent  scholars  who  have  devoted  noble  labors  to  his 
memory,  for  which  both  repose  and  ability  are  wanting 
to  me,  I  beg  that  the  shortcomings  of  my  too-hurried 
study  may  be  forgiven.  It  has  been  composed  in  the 
brief  intervals  of  days  without  leisure,  but  is  inspired 
by  an  abiding  desire  to  aid  in  the  better  mutual  knowl- 
edge of  East  and  West.  The  time  may  come,  I  hope, 
when  this  book  and  my  "  Indian  Song  of  Songs  "  will 
preserve  the  memory  of  one  who  loved  India  and  the 
Indian  peoples. 

EDWIN   ARNOLD,    C.S.I. 

London,  July,  1S79. 


THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA, 


Book  tfje  JTirst 


The  Scripture  of  the  Saviour  of  the  Worlds 
Lord  Buddha  —  Prince  Sidddrtha  styled  on  earth 
In  Earth  and  Heavens  and  Hells  Incomparable^ 
All-honored^   Wisest,  Best,  most  Pitiful ; 
The  Teacher  of  Ni)"vdna  and  the  Law. 

Thus  came  he  to  be  born  again  for  men. 

Below  the  highest  sphere  four  Regents  sit 
\Vlio  rule  our  world,  and  under  them  are  zones 


2  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Nearer,  but  high,  where  saintliest  spirits  dead 
Wait  thrice  ten  thousand  years,  then  live  again ; 
And  on  Lord  Buddlia,  waiting  in  that  sky. 
Came  for  our  sakes  the  five  sure  signs  of  birth 
So  that  the  Devas  knew  the  signs,  and  said 
"  Buddha  will  go  again  to  help  the  World." 
"  Yea  !  "  spake  He,  "  now  I  go  to  help  the  World 
This  last  of  many  times  ;  for  birth  and  death 
End  hence  for  me  and  those  who  learn  my  Law. 
I  will  go  down  among  the  Sakyas, 
Under  the  southward  snows  of  Himalay, 
Where  pious  people  live  and  a  just  King." 

That  night  the  wife  of  King  Suddhodana, 
Maya  the  Queen,  asleep  beside  her  Lord, 
Dreamed  a  strange  dream ;    dreamed  that  a  star  from 

heaven  — 
Splendid,  six-rayed,  in  color  rosy-pearl, 
Whereof  the  token  was  an  Elephant 
Six-tusked  and  whiter  than  Vahuka's  milk  — 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  t 

Shot  through  the  void  and,  shining  into  her, 

Entered  her  womb  upon  the  right.     Awaked, 

Bliss  beyond  mortal  mother's  filled  her  breast. 

And  over  half  the  earth  a  lovely  light 

Forewent  the  morn.     The  strong  hills  shook  ;  the  waves 

Sank  lulled  ;  all  flowers  that  blow  by  day  came  forth 

As  'twere  high  noon  ;  down  to  the  farthest  hells 

Passed  the  Queen's  joy,  as  when  warm  sunshine  thrills 

Wood-glooms  to  gold,  and  into  all  the  deeps 

A  tender  whisper  pierced.     "  Oh  ye,"  it  said, 

"  The  dead  that  are  to  live,  the  live  who  die, 

Uprise,  and  hear,  and  hope  !     Buddha  is  come  !  " 

Whereat  in  Limbos  numberless  much  peace 

Spread,  and  the  world's  heart  throbbed,  and  a  wind  blew 

With  unknown  freshness  over  lands  and  seas. 

And  when  the  morning  dawned,  and  this  was  told, 

The  grey  dream-readers  said  "  The  dream  is  good  ! 

The  Crab  is  in  conjunction  with  the  Sun  ; 

The  Queen  shall  bear  a  boy,  a  holy  child 

Of  wondrous  wisdom,  profiting  all  flesh, 


4  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA, 

Who  shall  deliver  men  from  ignorance, 
Or  rule  the  world,  if  he  will  deign  to  rule." 

In  this  wise  was  the  holy  Buddha  bom. 

Queen  Maya  stood  at  noon,  her  days  fulfilled, 

Under  a  Palsa  in  the  Palace-grounds, 

A  stately  trunk,  straight  as  a  temple-shaft. 

With  crown  of  glossy  leaves  and  fragrant  blooms ; 

And,  knowing  the  time  come  —  for  all  things  knew  ■ 

The  conscious  tree  bent  down  its  boughs  to  make 

A  bower  about  Queen  Maya's  majesty, 

And  Earth  put  forth  a  thousand  sudden  flowers 

To  spread  a  couch,  while,  ready  for  the  bath, 

The  rock  hard  by  gave  out  a  limpid  stream 

Of  crystal  flow.     So  brought  she  forth  her  child 

Pangless  —  he  having  on  his  perfect  form 

The  marks,  thirty  and  two,  of  blessed  birth ; 

Of  wlii(  li  the  great  news  to  the  Palace  came. 

But  when  they  brought  the  painted  palanquin 


BOOK   THE    FIRST. 

To  fetch  him  home,  the  bearers  of  tlie  poles 

Were  the  four  Regents  of  the  Earth,  come  down 

From  Mount  Sumeru  —  they  who  write  men's  deeds 

On  brazen  plates  —  the  Angel  of  the  East, 

Whose  hosts  are  clad  in  silver  robes,  and  bear 

Targets  of  pearl :  the  Angel  of  the  South, 

Whose  horsemen,  the  Kumbhandas,  ride  blue  steeds, 

With  sapphire  shields  :  the  Angel  of  the  West, 

By  Nagas  followed,  riding  steeds  blood-red, 

With  coral  shields  :  the  xA.ngel  of  the  North, 

Environed  by  his  Yakshas,  all  in  gold, 

On  yellow  horses,  bearing  shields  of  gold. 

These,  with  their  pomp  invisible,  came  down 

And  took  the  poles,  in  caste  and  outward  garb 

Like  bearers,  yet  most  mighty  gods  ;  and  gods 

Walked  free  with  men  that  day,  though  men  knew  not 

For  Heaven  was  filled  with  gladness  for  Earth's  sake, 

Knowing  Lord  Buddha  thus  was  come  again. 

But  King  Suddhodana  wist  not  of  this ; 


O  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

The  portents  troubled,  till  his  dream-readers 

Augured  a  Prince  of  earthly  dominance, 

A  Chakravartin,  such  as  rise  to  rule 

Once  in  each  thousand  years  ;  seven  gifts  he  has  — 

The  Chakra-ratna,  disc  divine  ;  the  gem ; 

The  horse,  the  Aswa-ratna,  that  proud  steed 

Which  tramps  the  clouds  ;  a  snow-white  elephant, 

The  Hasti-ratna,  born  to  bear  his  King ; 

The  crafty  Minister,  the  General 

Unconquered,  and  the  wife  of  peerless  grace. 

The  Istri-ratna,  lovelier  than  the  Dawn. 

For  which  gifts  looking  with  this  wondrous  boy. 

The  King  gave  order  that  his  town  should  keep 

High  festival ;  therefore  the  ways  were  swept, 

Rose-odors  sprinkled  in  the  street,  the  trees 

Were  hung  with  lamps  and  flags,  while  merry  crowds 

Gaped  on  the  sword-players  and  posturers, 

The  jugglers,  charmers,  swingers,  rope-walkers. 

The  nautch-girls  in  their  spangled  skirts  and  bells 

That  cliime  light  laughter  round  their  restless  feet ; 


BOOK    THE    FIRST. 

The  masquers  wrapped  in  skins  of  bear  and  deer. 

The  tiger-tamers,  wrestlers,  quail-fighters, 

Beaters  of  drum  and  t\vanglers  of  the  wire, 

Who  made  the  people  happy  by  command. 

Moreover  from  afar  came  merchant-men, 

Bringing,  on  tidings  of  this  birth,  rich  gifts 

In  golden  trays  ;  goat-shawls,  and  nard  and  jade, 

Turkises,  "evening-sky"  tint,  woven  webs  — 

So  fine  twelve  folds  hide  not  a  modest  face  — 

Waist-cloths  sewn  thick  with  pearls,  and  sandal-wood  ; 

Homage  from  tribute  cities  ;  so  they  called 

Their  Prince  Savarthasiddh,  "  All-Prospering," 

Briefer,  Siddartha. 

'Mongst  the  strangers  came 
A  grey-haired  saint,  Asita,  one  whose  ears, 
Long  closed  to  earthly  things,  caught  heavenly  sounds. 
And  heard  at  prayer  beneath  his  peepul-tree 
The  Devas  singing  songs  at  Buddha's  birth. 
Wondrous  in  lore  he  was  by  age  and  fasts  ; 
Him,  drawing  nigh,  seeming  so  reverend. 


8  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  King  saluted,  and  Queen  Maya  made 
To  lay  her  babe  before  such  holy  feet ; 
But  when  he  saw  the  Prince  the  old  man  cried 
"Ah,  Queen,  not  so  !  "  and  thereupon  he  touched 
Eight  times  tlie  dust,  laid  his  waste  visage  there, 
Saying,  "  O  Babe  !  I  worship  !    Thou  art  He  ! 
I  see  the  rosy  light,  the  foot-sole  marks. 
The  soft  curled  tendril  of  the  Swastika, 
The  sacred  primal  signs  thirty  and  two. 
The  eighty  lesser  tokens.     Thou  art  Buddh, 
And  thou  wilt  preach  the  Law  and  save  all  flesh 
Who  learn  the  Law,  though  1  shall  never  hear. 
Dying  too  soon,  who  lately  longed  to  die ; 
Howbeit  I  have  seen  Thee.     Know,  O  King  ! 
This  is  that  Blossom  on  our  human  tree 
Which  opens  once  in  many  myriad  years  — 
But  opened,  fills  the  world  with  Wisdom's  scent 
And  Love's  dropped  honey ;  from  thy  royal  root 
A  Heavenly  Lotus  springs  :  Ah,  happy  House  ! 
Yet  not  all-happy,  for  a  sword  must  pierce 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  9 

Thy  bowels  for  this  boy  —  whilst  thou,  sweet  Queen  ! 
Dear  to  all  gods  and  men  for  this  great  birth, 
Henceforth  art  grown  too  sacred  for  more  woe, 
And  life  is  woe,  therefore  in  seven  days 
Painless  thou  shalt  attain  the  close  of  pain." 

Which  fell :  for  on  the  seventh  evening 
Queen  Maya  smiling  slept,  and  waked  no  more, 
Passing  content  to  Trayastrinshas-Heaven, 
Where  countless  Devas  worship  her  and  wait 
Attendant  on  that  radiant  Motherhead. 
But  for  the  Babe  they  found  a  foster-nurse. 
Princess  Mahaprajapati  —  her  breast 
Nourished  with  noble  milk  the  lips  of  Him 
Whose  lips  comfort  the  Worlds. 

When  th'  eighth  year  passed 
The  careful  King  bethought  to  teach  his  son 
All  that  a  Prince  should  learn,  for  still  he  shunned 
The  too  vast  presage  of  those  miracles, 
The  glories  and  the  sufferings  of  a  Buddh. 


lO  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

So,  in  full  council  of  his  Ministers, 

"Who  is  the  wisest  man,  great  sirs,"  he  asked, 

"  To  teach  my  Prince  that  which  a  Prince  should  know  ?  " 

Whereto  gave  answer  each  with  instant  voice 

"  King  !  Viswamitra  is  the  wisest  one, 

The  farthest-seen  in  Scriptures,  and  the  best 

In  learning,  and  the  manual  arts,  and  all." 

Thus  Viswamitra  came  and  heard  commands  ; 

And,  on  a  day  found  fortunate,  the  Prince 

Took  up  his  slate  of  ox-red  sandal-wood, 

All-beautified  by  gems  around  the  rim. 

And  sprinkled  smooth  with  dust  of  emery. 

These  took  he,  and  his  writing-stick,  and  stood 

With  eyes  bent  down  before  the  Sage,  who  said, 

"  Child,  write  this  Scripture,"  speaking  slow  the  verse 

"  Gdyafri"  named,  which  only  High-born  hear  :  — 

0/n,  tatsavitiirvarenyam 
Bhargo  devasya  dh'unahi 
Dhiyo  yo  fia  prachodaydt. 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  II 

"  Acharya,  I  write,"  meekly  replied 

The  Prince,  and  quickly  on  the  dust  he  drew  — 

Not  in  one  script,  but  many  characters  — 

The  sacred  verse  ;  Nagri  and  Dakshin,  Ni, 

Mangal,  Parusha,  Yava,  Tirthi,  Uk, 

Darad,  Sikhyani,  Mana,  Madhyachar, 

The  pictured  writings  and  the  speech  of  signs, 

Tokens  of  cave-men  and  the  sea-peoples, 

Of  those  who  worship  snakes  beneath  the  earth. 

And  those  who  flame  adore  and  the  sun's  orb, 

The  Magians  and  the  dwellers  on  the  mounds  ; 

Of  all  the  nations  all  strange  scripts  he  traced 

One  after  other  with  his  writing-stick, 

Reading  the  master's  verse  in  every  tongue ; 

And  Viswamitra  said,  "  It  is  enough, 

Let  us  to  numbers. 

After  me  repeat 
Your  numeration  till  wc  reach  the  Lakh, 
One,  two,  three,  four,  to  ten,  and  then  by  tens 
To  hundreds,  thousands."     After  him  the  child 


12  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Named  digits,  decads,  centuries  ;  nor  paused, 

The  round  lakh  reached,  but  softly  murmured  on 

"  Then  comes  the  koti,  nahut,  ninnahut, 

Khamba,  viskhamba,  abab,  attata, 

To  kumuds,  gundhikas,  and  utpalas. 

By  pundarikas  unto  padumas. 

Which  last  is  how  you  count  the  utmost  grains 

Of  Hastagiri  ground  to  finest  dust ; 

But  beyond  that  a  numeration  is. 

The  Katha,  used  to  count  the  stars  of  night ; 

The  Koti-Katha,  for  the  ocean  drops ; 

Ingga,  the  calculus  of  circulars  ; 

Sarvanikchepa,  by  the  which  you  deal 

With  all  the  sands  of  Gunga,  till  we  come 

To  Antah-Kalpas,  where  the  unit  is 

The  sands  of  ten  crore  Gungas.     If  one  seeks 

More  comprehensive  scale,  th'  arithmic  mounts 

By  the  Asankya,  which  is  the  tale 

Of  all  the  drops  that  in  ten  thousand  years 

Would  fall  on  all  the  worlds  by  daily  rain  ; 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  1 3 

Thence  unto  Maha  Kalpas,  by  the  which 

The  Gods  compute  their  future  and  their  past." 

"  'Tis  good,"  the  Sage  rejoined,  "  Most  noble  Prince, 
If  these  thou  know'st,  needs  it  that  I  should  teach 
The  mensuration  of  the  lineal  ?  " 
Humbly  the  boy  rephed,  "  Acharya  !  " 
'■'■  Be  pleased  to  hear  me.     Paramanus  ten 
A  parasukshma  make  ;  ten  of  those  build 
The  trasarene,  and  seven  trasarenes 
One  mote's-length  floating  in  the  beam,  seven  motes 
The  whisker-point  of  mouse,  and  ten  of  these 
One  likhya  ;  likhyas  ten  a  yuka,  ten 
Yukas  a  heart  of  barley,  which  is  held 
Seven  times  a  wasp-waist ;  so  unto  the  grain 
Of  mung  and  mustard  and  the  barley-corn. 
Whereof  ten  give  the  finger-joint,  twelve  joints 
The  span,  wherefrom  we  reach  the  cubit,  staff, 
Bow-length,    lance-length ;      while     twenty     lengths     of 
lance 


14  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

Mete  what  is  named  a  '  breath,'  which  is  to  say 

Such  space  as  man  may  stride  with  lungs  once  filled, 

Whereof  a  gow  is  forty,  four  times  that 

A  yojana ;  and,  Master  !  if  it  please, 

I  shall  recite  how  many  sun-motes  lie 

From  end  to  end  within  a  yojana." 

Thereat,  with  instant  skill,  the  little  Prince 

Pronounced  the  total  of  the  atoms  true. 

But  Viswamitra  heard  it  on  his  face 

Prostrate  before  the  boy ;  "  For  thou,"  he  cried, 

"  Art  Teacher  of  thy  teachers  —  thou,  not  I, 

Art  Guru.     Oh,  I  worship  thee,  sweet  Prince  ! 

That  comest  to  my  school  only  to  show 

Thou  knowest  all  without  the  books,  and  know'st 

Fair  reverence  besides." 

Which  reverence 
Lord  Buddha  kept  to  all  his  schoolmasters. 
Albeit  beyond  their  learning  taught ;  in  speech 
Right  gentle,  yet  so  wise  ;  princely  of  mien. 
Yet  softly- mannered ;  modest,  deferent, 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  1 5 

And  tender-hearted,  though  of  fearless  blood ; 
No  bolder  horseman  in  the  youlliful  band 
E'er  rode  in  gay  chase  of  the  shy  gazelles ; 
No  keener  driver  of  the  chariot 
In  mimic  contest  scoured  the  Palace-courts  ; 
Yet  in  mid-play  the  boy  would  ofttimes  pause, 
Letting  the  deer  pass  free  ;  would  ofttimes  yield 
His  half-won  race  because  the  laboring  steeds 
Fetched  painful  breath  ;  or  if  his  princely  mates 
Saddened  to  lose,  or  if  some  wistful  dream 
Swept  o'er  his  thoughts.     Aiid  ever -with  the  years 
Waxed  this  compassionateness  of  our  Lord, 
Even  as  a  great  tree  grows  from  two  soft  leaves 
To  spread  its  shade  afar ;  but  hardly  yet 
Knew  the  young  child  of  sorrow,  pain,  or  tears, 
Save  as  strange  names  for  things  not  felt  by  kings, 
Nor  ever  to  be  felt.     But  it  befell 
In  the  Royal  garden  on  a  day  of  spring, 
A  flock  of  wild  swans  passed,  voyaging  north 
To  their  nest-places  on  Himala's  breast. 


1 6  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

Calling  in  love-notes  down  their  snowy  line 
The  bright  birds  flew,  by  fond  love  piloted ; 
And  Devadatta,  cousin  of  the  Prince, 
Pointed  his  bow,  and  loosed  a  wilful  shaft 
Which  found  the  wide  wing  of  the  foremost  swan 
Broad-spread  to  glide  upon  the  free  blue  road. 
So  that  it  fell,  the  bitter  arrow  fixed, 
Bright  scarlet  blood-gouts  staining  the  pure  plumes. 
Which  seeing,  Prince  Siddartha  took  the  bird 
Tenderly  up,  rested  it  in  his  lap  — 
Sitting  with  knees  crossed,  as  Lord  Buddha  sits  — 
And,  soothing  with  a  touch  the  wild  thing's  fright. 
Composed  its  ruffled  vans,  calmed  its  quick  heart, 
Caressed  it  into  peace  with  light  kind  palms 
As  soft  as  plantain-leaves  an  hour  unrolled ; 
And  while  the  left  hand  held,  the  right  hand  drew 
The  cruel  steel  forth  from  the  wound  and  laid 
Cool  leaves  and  healing  honey  on  the  smart. 
Yet  all  so  little  knew  the  boy  of  pain 
That  curiously  into  his  wrist  he  pressed 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  1 7 

The  arrow's  barb,  and  winced  to  feel  it  sting, 
And  turned  with  tears  to  soothe  his  bird  again. 

Then  some  one  came  who  said,  "  My  Prince  hath  shot 
A  swan,  which  fell  among  the  roses  here. 
He  bids  me  pray  you  send  it.     Will  you  send?  " 
"  Nay,"  quoth  Siddartha,  "  if  the  bird  were  dead 
To  send  it  to  the  slayer  might  be  well, 
But  the  swan  lives  ;  my  cousin  hath  but  killed 
The  god-like  speed  which  throbbed  in  this  white  wing." 
And  Devadatta  answered,  "The  wild  thing. 
Living  or  dead,  is  his  who  fetched  it  down ; 
'Twas  no  man's  in  the  clouds,  but  fall'n  'tis  mine, 
Give  me  my  prize,  fair  Cousin."     Then  our  Lord 
Laid  the  swan's  neck  beside  his  own  smooth  cheek 
And  gravely  spake,  "  Say  no  !  the  bird  is  mine. 
The  first  of  myriad  things  which  shall  be  mine 
By  right  of  mercy  and  love's  lordliness. 
For  now  I  kiiow,  by  what  within  nic  stirs, 
That  I  shall  teach  compassion  unto  men 
And  be  a  speechless  world's  interpreter, 


1 8  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Abating  this  accursed  flood  of  woe, 

Not  man's  alone  ;  but,  if  the  Prince  disputes. 

Let  him  submit  this  matter  to  the  wise 

And  we  will  wait  their  word."     So  was  it  done  ; 

In  full  divan  the  business  had  debate, 

And  many  thought  this  thing  and  many  that. 

Till  there  arose  an  unknown  priest  who  said, 

"  If  life  be  aught,  the  savior  of  a  life 

Owns  more  the  living  thing  than  he  can  own 

Who  sought  to  slay  —  the  slayer  spoils  and  wastes, 

The  cherisher  sustains,  give  him  the  bird  :  " 

Which  judgment  all  found  just ;  but  when  the  King 

Sought  out  the  sage  for  honor,  he  was  gone ; 

And  some  one  saw  a  hooded  snake  glide  forth,  — 

The  gods  come  ofttimes  thus  !    So  our  Lord  Buddh 

Began  his  works  of  mercy. 

Yet  not  more 
Knew  he  as  yet  of  grief  than  that  one  bird's. 
Which,  being  healed,  went  joyous  to  its  kind. 
But  on  another  day  the  King  said,  "  Come, 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  1 9 

Sweet  son  !  and  see  the  pleasaunce  of  the  spring, 

And  how  the  fruitful  earth  is  wooed  to  yield 

Its  riches  to  the  reaper  ;  how  my  realm  — 

Which  shall  be  thine  when  the  pile  flames  for  me  — 

Feeds  all  its  mouths  and  keeps  the  King's  chest  filled. 

Fair  is  the  season  with  new  leaves,  bright  blooms, 

Green  grass,  and  cries  of  plough-time."     So  they  rode 

Into  a  land  of  wells  and  gardens,  where, 

All  up  and  down  the  rich  red  loam,  the  steers         ' 

Strained  their  strong  shoulders  in  the  creaking  yoke  " 

Dragging  the  ploughs  ;  the  fat  soil  rose  and  rolled 

In  smooth  dark  waves  back  from  the  plough ;  who  drove 

Planted  both  feet  upon  the  leaping  share 

To  make  the  furrow  deep  ;  among  the  palms 

The  tinkle  of  the  rippling  water  rang. 

And  where  it  ran  the  glad  earth  'broidered  it 

With  balsams  and  the  spears  of  lemon-grass. 

Elsewhere  were  sowers  who  went  forth  to  sow ; 

And  all  the  jungle  laughed  with  nesting-songs, 

And  all  the  thickets  rustled  with  small  life 


20  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA, 

Of  lizard,  bee,  beetle,  and  creeping  things 
Pleased  at  the  spring-time.     In  the  mango-sprays 
The  sun-birds  flashed  ;  alone  at  his  green  forge 
Toiled  the  loud  coppersmith  ;  bee-eaters  hawked 
Chasing  the  purple  butterflies  ;  beneath, 
Striped  squirrels  raced,  the  mynas  perked  and  picked, 
The  nine  brown  sisters  chattered  in  the  thorn, 
The  pied  fish-tiger  hung  above  the  pool, 
The  egrets  stalked  among  the  buffaloes. 
The  kites  sailed  circles  in  the  golden  air ; 
About  the  painted  temple  peacocks  flew. 
The  blue  doves  cooed  from  every  well,  far  off 
The  village  drums  beat  for  some  marriage-feast ; 
All  things  spoke  peace  and  plenty,  and  the  Prince 
Saw  and  rejoiced.     But,  looking  deep,  he  saw 
The  thorns  which  grow  upon  this  rose  of  life  : 
How  the  swart  peasant  sweated  for  his  wage, 
Toiling  for  leave  to  live  ;  and  how  he  urged 
The  great-eyed  oxen  through  the  flaming  hours. 
Goading  their  velvet  flanks  :  then  marked  he,  too, 


BOOK    THE    FIRST.  21 

How  lizard  fed  on  ant,  and  snake  on  him, 
And  kite  on  both ;  and  how  the  fish-hawk  robbed 
The  fish-tiger  of  that  which  it  had  seized ; 
The  shrike  chasing  the  bulbul,  which  did  chase 
The  jewelled  butterflies  ;  till  everywhere 
Each  slew  a  slayer  and  in  turn  was  slain, 
Life  living  upon  death.     So  the  fair  show 
Veiled  one  vast,  savage,  grim  conspiracy 
Of  mutual  murder,  from  the  worm  to  man, 
Who  himself  kills  his  fellow ;  seeing  which  — 
The  hungry  ploughman  and  his  laboring  l^ine, 
Their  dewlaps  blistered  with  the  bitter  yoke, 
The  rage  to  live  which  makes  all  living  strife  — 
The  Prince  Siddartha  sighed.     "  Is  this,"  he  said, 
"  That  happy  earth  they  brought  me  forth  to  see  ? 
How  salt  with  sweat  the  peasant's  bread  !  how  hard 
The  oxen's  service  !  in  the  brake  how  fierce 
The  war  of  weak  and  strong  !  i'  th'  air  what  plots  ! 
No  refuge  e'en  in  water.     Go  aside         .   • 
A  space,  and  let  me  muse  on  what  ye  show." 


22  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

So  saying,  the  good  Lord  Buddha  seated  him 
Under  a  jambu-tree,  with  ankles  crossed  — 
As  holy  statues  sit  —  and  first  began 
To  meditate  this  deep  disease  of  life, 
What  its  far  source  and  whence  its  remedy. 
So  vast  a  pity  filled  him,  such  wide  love 
For  living  things,  such  passion  to  heal  pain, 
That  by  their  stress  his  princely  spirit  passed 
To  ecstasy,  and,  purged  from  mortal  taint 
Of  sense  and  self,  the  boy  attained  thereat 
Dhyana,  first  step  of  "  the  path." 

There  flew 
High  overhead  that  hour  five  holy  ones. 
Whose  free  wings  faltered  as  they  passed  the  tree. 
"  What  power  superior  draws  us  from  our  flight  ?  " 
They  asked,  for  spirits  feel  all  force  divine, 
And  know  the  sacred  presence  of  the  pure. 
Then,  looking  downward,  they  beheld  the  Buddh 
CroAvned  with  a  rose-hued  aureole,  intent 
On  thoughts  to  save ;  while  from  the  grove  a  voice 


BOOK    THE    FIRST,  23 

Cried,  "  Rishis  !  this  is  He  shall  help  the  world, 
Descend  and  worship."     So  the  Bright  Ones  came 
And  sang  a  song  of  praise,  folding  their  wings, 
Then  journeyed  on,  taking  good  news  to  Gods. 

But  certain  from  the  King  seeking  the  Prince 
Found  him  still  musing,  though  the  noon  was  past, 
And  the  sun  hastened  to  the  western  hills  : 
Yet,  while  all  shadows  moved,  the  jambu-tree's 
Stayed  in  one  quarter,  overspreading  him, 
Lest  the  sloped  rays  should  strike  that  sacred  head ; 
And  he  who  saw  this  sight  heard  a  voice  say, 
Amid  the  blossoms  of  the  rose-apple, 
"  Let  be  the  ELing's  son  !  till  the  shadow  goes 
Forth  from  his  heart  my  shadow  will  not  shift." 


Booft  tfje  ^econtf* 


Now,  when  our  Lord  was  come  to  eighteen  years, 
The  King  commanded  that  there  should  be  built 
Three  stately  houses,  one  of  hewn  square  beams 
With  cedar  lining,  warm  for  winter  days  ; 
One  of  veined  marbles,  cool  for  summer  heat ; 
And  one  of  burned  bricks,  with  blue  tiles  bedecked, 
Pleasant  at  seed-time,  when  the  champaks  bud  — 
Subha,  Suramma,  Ramma,  were  their  names. 
Delicious  gardens  round  about  them  bloomed, 
Streams  wandered  wild  and  musky  thickets  stretched, 
With  many  a  bright  pavilion  and  fair  lawn 
In  midst  of  which  Siddartha  strayed  at  will. 
Some  new  delight  provided  every  hour ; 
And  happy  hours  he  knew,  for  life  was  rich, 


BOOK    THE    SECOND.  25 

With  youthful  blood  at  quickest ;  yet  still  came 

The  shadows  of  his  meditation  back, 

As  the  lake's  silver  dulls  with  driving  clouds. 

Which  the  King  marking,  called  his  Ministers  : 
"  Bethink  ye,  sirs  !  how  the  old  Rishi  spake," 
He  said,  "  and  what  my  dream-readers  foretold. 
This  boy,  more  dear  to  me  than  mine  heart's  blood, 
Shall  be  of  universal  dominance, 
TrampHng  the  neck  of  all  his  enemies, 
A  King  of  kings  —  and  this  is  in  my  heart ;  — 
Or  he  shall  tread  the  sad  and  lowly  path 
Of  self-denial  and  of  pious  pains. 
Gaining  who  knows  what  good,  when  all  is  lost 
Worth  keeping ;  and  to  this  his  wistful  eyes 
Do  still  incline  amid  my  palaces. 
But  ye  are  sage,  and  ye  will  counsel  me ; 
How  may  his  feet  be  turned  to  that  proud  road 
Where  they  should  walk,  and  all  fair  signs  come  true 
Which  gave  him  Earth  to  rule,  if  he  would  rule  ?  " 


26  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  eldest  answered,  "  Maharaja  !  love 
Will  cure  these  thin  distempers  ;  weave  the  spell 
Of  woman's  wiles  about  his  idle  heart. 
What  knows  this  noble  boy  of  beauty  yet, 
Eyes  that  make  heaven  forgot,  and  Ups  of  balm  ? 
Find  him  soft  wives  and  pretty  playfellows  ; 
The  thoughts  ye  cannot  stay  with  brazen  chains 
A  girl's  hair  hghtly  binds." 

And  all  thought  good, 
But  the  King  answered,  "  If  we  seek  him  wives, 
Love  chooseth  ofttimes  with  another  eye ; 
And  if  we  bid  range  Beauty's  garden  round, 
To  pluck  what  blossom  pleases,  he  will  smile 
And  sweetly  shun  the  joy  he  knows  not  of." 
Then  said  another,  "  Roams  the  barasingh 
Until  the  fated  arrow  flies  ;  for  him. 
As  for  less  lordly  spirits,  some  one  charms, 
Some  face  will  seem  a  Paradise,  some  form 
Fairer  than  pale  Dawn  when  she  wakes  the  world. 
This  do,  my  King  !     Command  a  festival 


BOOK    THE    SECOND.  2/ 

Where  the  realm's  maids  shall  be  competitors 
In  youth  and  grace,  and  sports  that  Sakyas  use. 
Let  the  Prince  give  the  prizes  to  the  fair, 
And,  when  the  lovely  victors  pass  his  seat, 
There  shall  be  those  who  mark  if  one  or  two 
Change  the  fixed  sadness  of  his  tender  cheek ; 
So  we  may  choose  for  Love  with  Love's  own  eyes, 
And  cheat  his  Highness  into  happiness," 
This  thing  seemed  good ;  wherefore  upon  a  day 
The  criers  bade  the  young  and  beautiful 
Pass  to  the  palace,  for  'twas  in  command 
To  hold  a  court  of  pleasure,  and  the  Prince 
Would  give  the  prizes,  something  rich  for  all, 
The  richest  for  the  fairest  judged.     So  flocked 
Kapilavastu's  maidens  to  the  gate, 
Each  with  her  dark  hair  newly  smoothed  and  bound. 
Eyelashes  lustred  with  the  soorma-stick. 
Fresh-bathed  and  scented  ;  all  in  shawls  and  cloths 
Of  gayest ;  slender  hands  and  feet  new-stained 
With  crimson,  and  the  tilka-spots  stamped  bright. 


28  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

Fair  show  it  was  of  all  those  Indian  girls 
Slow -pacing  past  the  throne  with  large  black  eyes 
Fixed  on  the  ground,  for  when  they  saw  the  Prince 
More  than  the  awe  of  Majesty  made  beat 
Their  fluttering  hearts,  he  sate  so  passionless, 
Gentle,  but  so  beyond  them.     Each  maid  took 
With  down-dropped  lids  her  gift,  afraid  to  gaze ; 
And  if  the  people  hailed  some  lovelier  one 
Beyond  her  rivals  worthy  royal  smiles, 
She  stood  like  a  scared  antelope  to  touch 
The  gracious  hand,  then  fled  to  join  her  mates 
Trembling  at  favor,  so  divine  he  seemed, 
So  high  and  saint-like  and  above  her  world. 
Thus  filed  they,  one  bright  maid  after  another, 
The  city's  flowers,  and  all  this  beauteous  march 
Was  ending  and  the  prizes  spent,  when  last 
Came  young  Yasodhara,  and  they  that  stood 
Nearest  Siddartha  saw  the  princely  boy 
Start,  as  the  radiant  girl  approached.     A  form 
Of  heavenly  mould ;  a  gait  like  Parvati's  ; 


BOOK    THE    SECOND,  29 

Eyes  like  a  hind's  in  love-time,  face  so  fair 
Words  cannot  paint  its  spell ;  and  she  alone 
Gazed  full  —  folding  her  palms  across  her  breasts  — 
On  the  boy's  gaze,  her  stately  neck  unbent. 
"  Is  there  a  gift  for  me?  "  she  asked,  and  smiled. 
" The  gifts  are  gone,"  the  Prince  repUed,  "yet  take 
This  for  amends,  dear  sister,  of  whose  grace 
Our  happy  city  boasts  ;  "  therewith  he  loosed 
The  emerald  necklet  from  his  throat,  and  clasped 
Its  green  beads  round  her  dark  and  silk-soft  waist ; 
And  their  eyes  mbced,  and  from  the  look  sprang  love. 

Long  after  —  when  enlightenment  was  full  — 
Lord  Buddha  —  being  prayed  why  thus  his  heart 
Took  fire  at  first  glance  of  the  Sakya  girl, 
Answered,  "  We  were  not  strangers,  as  to  us 
And  all  it  seemed  ;  in  ages  long  gone  by 
A  hunter's  son,  playing  with  forest  girls 
By  Yamun's  springs,  where  Nandadevi  stands, 
Sate  umpire  while  they  raced  beneath  the  firs 


30  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Like  hares  at  eve  that  run  their  playful  rings ; 

One  with  flower-stars  crowned  he,  one  with  long  plumes 

Plucked  from  eyed  pheasant  and  the  jungle-cock, 

One  with  fir-apples ;  but  who  ran  the  last 

Came  first  for  him,  and  unto  her  the  boy 

Gave  a  tame  fawn  and  his  heart's  love  beside. 

And  in  the  wood  they  lived  many  glad  years, 

And  in  the  wood  they  undivided  died. 

Lo  !  as  hid  seed  shoots  after  rainless  years. 

So  good  and  evil,  pains  and  pleasures,  hates 

And  loves,  and  all  dead  deeds,  come  forth  again 

Bearing  bright  leaves  or  dark,  sweet  fruit  or  sour. 

Thus  I  was  he  and  she  Yasodhara ; 

And  while  the  wheel  of  birth  and  death  turns  round, 

That  which  hath  been  must  be  between  us  two." 

But  they  who  watched  the  Prince  at  prize-giving 
Saw  and  heard  all,  and  told  the  careful  King 
How  sate  Siddartha  heedless,  till  there  passed 
Great  Suprabuddha's  child,  Yasodhara ; 


BOOK    THE    SECOND.  31 

And  how  —  at  sudden  sight  of  her  —  he  changed, 
And  how  she  gazed  on  him  and  he  on  her, 
And  of  the  jewel-gift,  and  what  beside 
Passed  in  their  speaking  glance. 

The  fond  King  smiled  : 
"  Look  !  we  have  found  a  lure ;  take  counsel  now 
To  fetch  therewith  our  falcon  from  the  clouds. 
Let  messengers  be  sent  to  ask  the  maid 
In  marriage  for  my  son."     But  it  was  law 
With  Sakyas,  when  any  asked  a  maid 
Of  noble  house,  fair  and  desirable, 
He  must  make  good  his  skill  in  martial  arts 
Against  all  suitors  who  should  challenge  it ; 
Nor  might  this  custom  break  itself  for  kings. 
Therefore  her  father  spake  :  *•'  Say  to  the  King, 
The  child  is  sought  by  princes  far  and  near ; 
If  thy  most  gentle  son  can  bend  the  bow. 
Sway  sword,  and  back  a  horse  better  than  they. 
Best  would  he  be  in  all  and  best  to  us  : 
But  how  shall  tliis  be,  with  his  cloistered  ways?  " 


32  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Then  the  King's  heart  was  sore,  for  now  the  Prince 

Begged  sweet  Yasodhara  for  wife  —  in  vain, 

With  Devadatta  foremost  at  the  bow, 

Ardjuna  master  of  all  fiery  steeds, 

And  Nanda  chief  in  sword-play ;  but  the  Prince 

Laughed  low  and  said,  "  These  things,  too,  I  have  learned ; 

Make  proclamation  that  thy  son  will  meet 

All  comers  at  their  chosen  games.     I  think 

I  shall  not  lose  my  love  for  such  as  these." 

So  'twas  given  forth  that  on  the  seventh  day 

The  Prince  Siddartha  summoned  whoso  would 

To  match  with  him  in  feats  of  manliness, 

The  victor's  crown  to  be  Yasodhara. 

Therefore,  upon  the  seventh  day,  there  went 
The  Sakya  lords  and  town  and  country  round 
Unto  the  maidan ;  and  the  maid  went  too 
Amid  her  kinsfolk,  carried  as  a  bride. 
With  music,  and  with  litters  gayly  dight, 
And  gold-horned  oxen,  flower-caparisoned. 


BOOK    THE    SECOND.  33 

Whom  Devadatta  claimed,  of  royal  line, 
And  Nanda  and  Ardjuna,  noble  both. 
The  flower  of  all  youths  there,  till  the  Prince  came 
Riding  his  white  horse  Kantaka,  which  neighed. 
Astonished  at  this  great  strange  world  without : 
Also  Siddartha  gazed  with  wondering  eyes 
On  all  those  people  born  beneath  the  throne, 
Otherwise  housed  than  kings,  otherwise  fed. 
And  yet  so  like  —  perchance  —  in  joys  and  griefs. 
But  when  the  Prince  saw  sweet  Yasodhara, 
Brightly  he  smiled,  and  drew  his  silken  rein. 
Leaped  to  the  earth  from  Kantaka's  broad  back, 
And  cried,  "  He  is  not  worthy  of  this  pearl 
Who  is  not  worthiest ;  let  my  rivals  prove 
If  I  have  dared  too  much  in  seeking  her." 
Then  Nanda  challenged  for  the  arrow-test 
And  set  a  brazen  drum  six  gows  away, 
Ardjuna  six  and  Devadatta  eight ; 
But  Prince  Siddartha  bade  them  set  his  drum 
Ten  gows  from  off  the  line,  until  it  seemed 

3 


34  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

A  cowry-shell  for  target.     Then  they  loosed, 
And  Nanda  pierced  his  drum,  Ardjuna  his, 
And  Devadatta  drove  a  well-aimed  shaft 
Through  both  sides  of  his  mark,  so  that  the  crowd 
Marvelled  and  cried ;  and  sweet  Yasodhara 
Dropped  the  gold  sari  o'er  her  fearful  eyes, 
Lest  she  should  see  her  Prince's  arrow  fail. 
But  he,  taking  their  bow  of  lacquered  cane, 
With  sinews  bound,  and  strung  with  silver  wire. 
Which  none  but  stalwart  arms  could  draw  a  span, 
Thrummed  it  —  low  laughing  —  drew  the  twisted  string 
Till  the  horns  kissed,  and  the  thick  belly  snapped  : 
"  That  is  for  play,  not  love,"  he  said  ;  "  hath  none 
A  bow  more  fit  for  Sakya  lords  to  use  ?  " 
And  one  said,  "  There  is  Sinhahanu's  bow. 
Kept  in  the  temple  since  we  know  not  when. 
Which  none  can  string,  nor  draw  if  it  be  strung." 
"  Fetch  me,"  he  cried,  "  that  weapon  of  a  man  !  " 
They  brought  the  ancient  bow,  wrought  of  black  steel. 
Laid  with  gold  tendrils  on  its  branching  curves 


BOOK    THE    SECOND.  35 

Like  bison-horns ;  and  twice  Sidddrtha  tried 

Its  strength  across  his  knee,  then  spake  —  "  Shoot  now 

With  this,  my  cousins  ! "  but  they  could  not  bring 

The  stubborn  arms  a  hand's-breadth  nigher  use  ; 

Then  the  Prince,  lightly  leaning,  bent  the  bow, 

Slipped  home  the  eye  upon  the  notch,  and  twanged 

Sharply  the  cord,  which,  like  an  eagle's  wing 

Thrilling  the  air,  sang  forth  so  clear  and  loud 

That  feeble  folk  at  home  that  day  inquired 

"What  is  this  sound?"  and  people  answered  them, 

"  It  is  the  sound  of  Sinhahanu's  bow, 

Which  the  King's  son  has  strung  and  goes  to  shoot ;  " 

Then  fitting  fair  a  shaft,  he  drew  and  loosed. 

And  the  keen  arrow  clove  the  sky,  and  drave 

Right  through  that  farthest  drum,  nor  stayed  its  flight. 

But  skimmed  the  plain  beyond,  past  reach  of  eye. 

Then  Devadatta  challenged  mth  the  sword, 
And  clove  a  Talas-tree  six  fingers  thick ; 
Ardjuna  seven ;  and  Nanda  cut  through  nine ; 


36  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

But  two  such  Stems  together  grew,  and  both 
Siddartha's  blade  shred  at  one  flashing  stroke, 
Keen,  but  so  smooth  that  the"  straight  trunks  upstood, 
And  Nanda  cried,  "  His  edge  turned  !  "  and  the  maid 
Trembled  anew  seeing  the  trees  erect. 
Until  the  Devas  of  the  air,  who  watched. 
Blew  light  breaths  from  the  south,  and  both  green  crowns 
Crashed  in  the  sand,  clean-felled. 

Then  brought  they  steeds, 
High-mettled,  nobly-bred,  and  three  times  scoured 
Around  the  maidan,  but  white  Kantaka 
Left  even  the  fleetest  far  behind  —  so  swift. 
That  ere  the  foam  fell  from  his  mouth  to  earth 
Twenty  spear-lengths  he  flew  ,•  but  Nanda  said, 
"  We  too  might  win  with  such  as  Kantaka ; 
Bring  an  unbroken  horse,  and  let  men  see 
Who  best  can  back  him,"     So  the  syces  brought 
A  stallion  dark  as  night,  led  by  three  chains. 
Fierce-eyed,  with  nostrils  wide  and  tossing  mane. 
Unshod,  unsaddled,  for  no  rider  yet 


BOOK   THE    SECOND.  37 

Had  crossed  him.     Three  times  each  young  Sakya 

Sprang  to  his  mighty  back,  but  the  hot  steed 

Furiously  reared,  and  flung  them  to  the  plain 

In  dust  and  shame  ;  only  Ardjuna  held 

His  seat  awhile,  and,  bidding  loose  the  chains, 

Lashed  the  black  flank,  and  shook  the  bit,  and  held 

The  proud  jaws  fast  with  grasp  of  master-hand. 

So  that  in  storms  of  wrath  and  rage  and  fear 

The  savage  stallion  circled  once  the  plain 

Half-tamed  ;  but  sudden  turned  with  naked  teeth, 

Gripped  by  the  foot  Ardjuna,  tore  him  down. 

And  would  have  slain  him,  but  the  grooms  ran  in 

Fettering  the  maddened  beast.     Then  all  men  cried, 

"  Let  not  Siddartha  meddle  with  this  lihut, 

Whose  liver  is  a  tempest,  and  his  blood 

Red  flame  ;  "  but  the  Prince  said,  "  Let  go  the  chains, 

Give  me  his  forelock  only,"  which  he  held 

With  quiet  grasp,  and,  speaking  some  low  word, 

Laid  his  right  palm  across  the  stallion's  eyes. 

And  drew  it  gently  down  the  angry  face, 


38  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

And  all  along  the  neck  and  panting  flanks, 
Till  men  astonished  saw  the  night-black  horse 
Sink  his  fierce  crest  and  stand  subdued  and  meek, 
As  though  he  knew  our  Lord  and  worshipped  him. 
Nor  stirred  he  while  Siddartha  mounted,  then 
Went  soberly  to  touch  of  knee  and  rein 
Before  all  eyes,  so  that  the  people  said, 
"  Strive  no  more,  for  Siddartha  is  the  best." 

And  all  the  suitors  answered  "  He  is  best !  " 
And  Suprabuddha,  father  of  the  maid. 
Said,  "  It  was  in  our  hearts  to  find  thee  best, 
Being  dearest,  yet  what  magic  taught  thee  more 
Of  manhood  'mid  thy  rose-bowers  and  thy  dreams 
Than  war  and  chase  and  world's  work  bring  to  these  ? 
But  wear,  fair  Prince,  the  treasure  thou  hast  won." 
Then  at  a  word  the  lovely  Indian  girl 
Rose  from  her  place  above  the  throng,  and  took 
A  crown  of  mogra-flowers  and  lightly  drew 
The  veil  of  black  and  gold  across  her  brow, 


BOOK   THE   SECOND.  39 

Proud  pacing  past  the  youths,  until  she  came 
To  where  Siddartha  stood  in  grace  divine, 
New  lighted  from  the  night-dark  steed,  which  bent 
Its  strong  neck  meekly  underneath  his  arm. 
Before  the  Prince  lowly  she  bowed,  and  bared 
Her  face  celestial  beaming  with  glad  love  ; 
Then  on  his  neck  she  hung  the  fragrant  wreath. 
And  on  his  breast  she  laid  her  perfect  head, 
And  stooped  to  touch  his  feet  with  proud  glad  eyes, 
Saying,  "  Dear  Prince,  behold  me,  who  am  thine  !  " 
And  all  the  throng  rejoiced,  seeing  them  pass 
Hand  fast  in  hand,  and  heart  beating  with  heart. 
The  veil  of  black  and  gold  drawn  close  again. 

Long  after  —  when  enlightenment  was  come  — 
They  prayed  Lord  Buddha  touching  all,  and  why 
She  wore  this  black  and  gold,  and  stepped  so  proud. 
And  the  World-honored  answered,  "  Unto  me 
This  was  unknown,  albeit  it  seemed  half  known  ; 
For  while  the  wheel  of  birth  and  death  turns  round, 


40  THE    LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

Past  things  and  thoughts,  and  buried  lives  come  back. 

I  now  remember,  myriad  rains  ago, 

What  time  I  roamed  Himala's  hanging  woods, 

A  tiger,  with  my  striped  and  hungry  kind ; 

I,  who  am  Buddh,  couched  in  the  kusa  grass 

Gazing  with  green  bUnked  eyes  upon  the  herds 

Which  pastured  near  and  nearer  to  their  death 

Round  my  day-lair ;  or  underneath  the  stars 

I  roamed  for  prey,  savage,  insatiable. 

Sniffing  the  paths  for  track  of  man  and  deer. 

Amid  the  beasts  that  were  my  fellows  then, 

Met  in  deep  jungle  or  by  reedy  jheel, 

A  tigress,  comeliest  of  the  forest,  set 

The  males  at  war  ;  her  hide  was  lit  with  gold, 

Black-broidered  like  the  veil  Yasodhara 

Wore  for  me  ;  hot  the  strife  waxed  in  that  wood 

With  tooth  and  claw,  while  underneath  a  neem 

Th?  fair  beast  watched  us  bleed,  thus  fiercely  wooed. 

And  I  remember,  at  the  end  she  came 

Snarling  past  this  and  that  torn  forest-lord 


BOOK   THE   SECOND.  4I 

Which  I  had  conquered,  and  with  fawning  jaws 
Licked  my  quick-heaving  flank,  and  with  me  went 
Into  the  wild  with  proud  steps,  amorously. 
The  wheel  of  birth  and  death  turns  low  and  high." 

Therefore  the  maid  was  given  unto  the  Prince 
A  willing  spoil ;  and  when  the  stars  were  good  — 
Mesha,  the  Red  Ram,  being  Lord  of  heaven  — 
The  marriage  feast  was  kept,  as  Sakyas  use, 
The  golden  gadi  set,  the  carpet  spread, 
The  wedding  garlands  hung,  the  arm-threads  tied, 
The  sweet  cake  broke,  the  rice  and  attar  thrown. 
The  two  straws  floated  on  the  reddened  milk, 
Which,  coming  close,  betokened  "  love  till  death  ;  " 
The  seven  steps  taken  thrice  around  the  fire, 
The  gifts  bestowed  on  holy  men,  the  alms 
And  temple  offerings  made,  the  mantras  sung, 
The  garments  of  the  bride  ajid  bridegroom  tied. 
Then  the  grey  father  spake  :  "  Worshipful  Prince, 
She  that  was  ours  henceforth  is  only  thine  ; 


42  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Be  good  to  her,  who  hath  her  life  in  thee." 
Wherewith  they  brought  home  sweet  Yasodhara, 
With  songs  and  trumpets,  to  the  Prince's  arms. 
And  love  was  all  in  all. 

Yet  not  to  love 
Alone  trusted  the  King ;  love's  prison-house 
Stately  and  beautiful  he  bade  them  build. 
So  that  in  all  the  earth  no  marvel  was 
Like  Vishramvan,  the  Prince's  pleasure-place. 
Midway  in  those  wide  palace-grounds  there  rose 
A  verdant  hill  whose  base  Rohini  bathed, 
Murmuring  adown  from  Himalay's  broad  feet, 
To  bear  its  tribute  into  Gunga's  waves. 
Southward  a  growth  of  tamarind  trees  and  sal, 
Thick  set  with  pale  sky-colored  ganthi  flowers, 
Shut  out  the  world,  save  if  the  city's  hum 
Came  on  the  wind  no  harsher  than  when  bees 
Hum  out  of  sight  in  thickets.     Northwards  soared 
The  stainless  ramps  of  huge  Himala's  wall. 
Ranged  in  white  ranks  against  the  blue  —  untrod, 


BOOK    THE    SECOND.  43 

Infinite,  wonderful  —  whose  uplands  vast, 
And  lifted  universe  of  crest  and  crag, 
Shoulder  and  shelf,  green  slope  and  icy  horn, 
Riven  ravine,  and  splintered  precipice 
Led  cUmbing  thought  higher  and  higher,  until 
It  seemed  to  stand  in  heaven  and  speak  with  gods. 
Beneath  the  snows  dark  forests  spread,  sharp  laced 
With  leaping  cataracts  and  veiled  with  clouds  : 
Lower  grew  rose-oaks  and  the  great  fir  groves 
Where  echoed  pheasant's  call  and  panther's  cry, 
Clatter  of  wild  sheep  on  the  stones,  and  scream 
Of  circling  eagles  :  under  these  the  plain 
Gleamed  like  a  praying-carpet  at  the  foot 
Of  those  divinest  altars.     Fronting  this 
The  builders  set  the  bright  pavilion  up, 
Fair-planted  on  the  terraced  liill,  with  towers 
On  either  flank  and  pillared  cloisters  round. 
Its  beams  were  carved  with  stories  of  old  time  — 
Radha  and  Krishna  and  the  sylvan  girls  — 
Sita  and  Hanuman  and  Draupadi ; 


44  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

And  on  the  middle  porch  God  Ganesha, 

With  disc  and  hook  —  to  bring  wisdom  and  wealth  — 

Propitious  sate,  wreathing  his  sidelong  trunk. 

By  winding  ways  of  garden  and  of  court 

The  inner  gate  was  reached,  of  marble  wrought, 

White  with  pink  veins  ;  the  lintel  lazuli. 

The  threshold  alabaster,  and  the  doors 

Sandal-wood,  cut  in  pictured  panelling ; 

Whereby  to  lofty  halls  and  shadowy  bowers 

Passed  the  delighted  foot,  on  stately  stairs, 

Through  latticed  galleries,  'neath  painted  roofs 

And  clustering  columns,  where  cool  fountains  —  fringed 

With  lotus  and  nelumbo  —  danced,  and  fish 

Gleamed  through  their  crystal,  scarlet,  gold,  and  blue. 

Great-eyed  gazelles  in  sunny  alcoves  browsed 

The  blown  red  roses  ;  birds  of  rainbow  wing 

Fluttered  among  the  palms ;  doves,  green  and  grey, 

Built  their  safe  nests  on  gilded  cornices ; 

Over  the  shining  pavements  peacocks  drew 

The  splendors  of  their  trains,  sedately  watched 


BOOK   THE   SECOND.  45 

By  milk-white  herons  and  the  small  house-owls. 
The  plum-necked  parrots  swung  from  fruit  to  fruit ; 
The  yellow  sunbirds  whirred  from  bloom  to  bloom, 
The  timid  lizards  on  the  lattice  basked 
Fearless,  the  squirrels  ran  to  feed  from  hand, 
For  all  was  peace  :  the  shy  black  snake,  that  gives 
Fortune  to  households,  sunned  his  sleepy  coils 
Under  the  moon-flowers,  where  the  musk-deer  played, 
And  brown-eyed  monkeys  chattered  to  the  crows. 
And  all  this  house  of  love  was  peopled  fair 
With  sweet  attendance,  so  that  in  each  part 
With  lovely  sights  were  gentle  faces  found. 
Soft  speech  and  willing  service,  each  one  glad 
To  gladden,  pleased  at  pleasure,  proud  to  obey ; 
Till  life  glided  beguiled,  like  a  smooth  stream 
Banked  by  perpetual  flow'rs,  Yasodhara 
Queen  of  the  enchanting  Court. 

But  innermost, 
Beyond  the  richness  of  those  hundred  halls, 
A  secret  chamber  lurked,  where  skill  had  spent 
All  lovely  fantasies  to  lull  the  mind. 


46  THE   LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  entrance  of  it  was  a  cloistered  square  — 

Roofed  by  the  sky,  and  in  the  midst  a  tank  — 

Of  milky  marble  built,  and  laid  with  slabs 

Of  milk-white  marble  ;  bordered  round  the  tank 

And  on  the  steps,  and  all  along  the  frieze 

With  tender  inlaid  work  of  agate-stones. 

Cool  as  to  tread  in  summer-time  on  snows 

It  was  to  loiter  there  ;  the  sunbeams  dropped 

Their  gold,  and,  passing  into  porch  and  niche, 

Softened  to  shadows,  silvery,  pale,  and  dim, 

As  if  the  very  Day  paused  and  grew  Eve 

In  love  and  silence  at  that  bower's  gate ; 

For  there  beyond  the  gate  the  chamber  was, 

Beautiful,  sweet ;  a  wonder  of  the  world  ! 

Soft  light  from  perfumed  lamps  through  windows  fell 

Of  nakre  and  stained  stars  of  lucent  film 

On  golden  cloths  outspread,  and  silken  beds. 

And  heavy  splendor  of  the  purdah's  fringe, 

Lifted  to  take  only  the  loveliest  in. 

Here,  whether  it  was  night  or  day  none  knew. 

For  always  streamed  that  softened  light,  more  bright 


BOOK   THE   SECOND.  47 

Than  sunrise,  but  as  tender  as  the  eve's  ; 

And  always  breathed  sweet  airs,  more  joy-giving 

Than  morning's,  but  as  cool  as  midnight's  breath  ; 

And  night  and  day  lutes  sighed,  and  night  and  day 

Delicious  foods  were  spread,  and  dewy  fruits, 

Sherbets  new  chilled  with  snows  of  Himalay, 

And  sweetmeats  made  of  subtle  daintiness. 

With  sweet  tree-milk  in  its  own  ivory  cup. 

And  night  and  day  served  there  a  chosen  band 

Of  nautch  girls,  cup-bearers,  and  cymballers. 

Delicate,  dark-browed  ministers  of  love. 

Who  fanned  the  sleeping  eyes  of  the  happy  Prince, 

And  when  he  waked,  led  back  his  thoughts  to  bliss 

With  music  whispering  through  the  blooms,  and  charm 

Of  amorous  songs  and  dreamy  dances,  linked 

By  chime  of  ankle-bells  and  wave  of  arms 

And  silver  vina-strings  ;  while  essences 

Of  musk  and  champak  and  the  blue  haze  spread 

From  burning  spices  soothed  his  soul  again 

To  drowse  by  sweet  Yasodhara ;  and  thus 

Siddartha  lived  forgetting. 


48  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

Furthermore, 
The  King  commanded  that  within  those  walls 
No  mention  should  be  made  of  death  or  age, 
Sorrow,  or  pain,  or  sickness.     If  one  drooped 
In  the  lovely  Court  —  her  dark  glance  dim,  her  feet 
Faint  in  the  dance  —  the  guiltless  criminal 
Passed  forth  an  exile  from  that  Paradise, 
Lest  he  should  see  and  suffer  at  her  woe. 
Bright-eyed  mtendants  watched  to  execute 
Sentence  on  such  as  spake  of  the  harsh  world 
Without,  where  aches  and  plagues  were,  tears  and  fears, 
And  wail  of  mourners,  and  grim  fume  of  pyres. 
'Twas  treason  if  a  thread  of  silver  strayed 
In  tress  of  singing-girl  or  nautch-dancer ; 
And  every  dawn  the  dying  rose  was  plucked, 
The  dead  leaves  hid,  all  evil  sights  removed : 
For  said  the  King,  "  If  he  shall  pass  his  youth 
Far  from  such  things  as  move  to  wistfulness. 
And  brooding  on  the  empty  eggs  of  thought, 
Tlie  shadow  of  this  fate,  too  vast  for  man. 
May  fade,  belike,  and  I  shall  see  him  grow 


BOOK   THE    SECOND.  49 

To  that  great  stature  of  fair  sovereignty 

When  he  shall  rule  all  lands  —  if  he  will  rule  — 

The  King  of  kings  and  glory  of  his  time." 

Wherefore,  around  that  pleasant  prison-house  — 
Where  love  was  gaoler  and  delights  its  bars, 
But  far  removed  from  sight  —  the  King  bade  build 
A  massive  wall,  and  in  the  wall  a  gate 
With  brazen  folding-doors,  which  but  to  roU 
Back  on  their  hinges  asked  a  hundred  arms ; 
Also  the  noise  of  that  prodigious  gate 
Opening,  was  heard  full  half  a  yojana. 
And  inside  this  another  gate  he  made, 
And  yet  within  another  —  through  the  three 
Must  one  pass  if  he  quit  that  Pleasure -house. 
Three  mighty  gates  there  were,  bolted  and  barred. 
And  over  each  was  set  a  faithful  watch ; 
And  the  King's  order  said,  "  Suffer  no  man 
To  pass  the  gates,  tliough  he  should  be  tlie  Prince  : 
This  on  your  lives  —  even  though  it  be  my  son." 

4 


iSoolt  tje  ^Jtrti* 


In  which  calm  home  of  happy  life  and  love 

Ligged  our  Lord  Buddha,  knowing  not  of  woe, 

Nor  want,  nor  pain,  nor  plague,  nor  age,  nor  death, 

Save  as  when  sleepers  roam  dim  seas  in  dreams, 

And  land  awearied  on  the  shores  of  day. 

Bringing  strange  merchandise  from  that  black  voyage. 

Thus  ofttimes  when  he  lay  with  gentle  head 

Lulled  on  the  dark  breasts  of  Yasodhara, 

Her  fond  hands  fanning  slow  his  sleeping  lids. 

He  would  start  up  and  cry,  "  My  world  !     Oh,  world  ! 

I  hear  !  I  know  !  I  come  !  "     And  she  would  ask, 

"  What  ails  my  Lord?  "  with  large  eyes  terror-struck ; 

For  at  such  times  the  pity  in  his  look 

Was  awful,  and  liis  visage  like  a  god's. 


BOOK   THE   THIRD.  5^ 

Then  would  he  smile  again  to  stay  her  tears, 
And  bid  the  vinas  sound ;  but  once  they  set 
A  stringed  gourd  on  the  sill,  there  where  the  wind 
Could  linger  o'er  its  notes  and  play  at  will  — 
Wild  music  makes  the  wind  on  silver  strings  — 
And  those  who  lay  around  heard  only  that ; 
But  Prince  Siddartha  heard  the  Devas  play, 
And  to  his  ears  they  sang  such  words  as  these  :  — 

W£  are  the  voices  of  the  wandering  wind, 
Which  moan  for  rest  and  rest  can  never  find; 
Lo  !  as  the  wind  is  so  is  mortal  life, 
A  moan,  a  sigh,  a  sob,  a  storm,  a  strife. 

Wherefore  a?id  whence  we  are  ye  cannot  know, 
Nor  where  life  springs  nor  whither  life  doth  go  ; 
We  are  as  ye  are,  ghosts  from  the  ijiane, 
What  pleasure  have  we  of  our  changeful  pain  ? 

What  pleasure  hast  thou  of  thy  changeless  bliss  / 
Nay,  if  love  lasted,  there  were  joy  in  this  ; 
But  lifers  way  is  the  wind's  way,  all  these  things 
Are  but  brief  voices  breathed  on  shifting  strings. 


52  THE   LIGHT    OF   ASIA. 

O  Mayds  son  !  because  we  roam  the  earth 
Moan  we  upon  these  strings  ;  we  make  no  mirth, 
So  many  woes  we  see  in  many  lands, 
So  many  streaming  eyes  and  wringing  hands. 

Yet  mock  we  while  we  wail,  for,  could  they  know, 
This  life  they  cling  to  is  bitt  empty  show  ; 
^Twere  all  as  well  to  bid  a  cloud  to  stand. 
Or  hold  a  ricmwig  river  with  the  hand. 

But  thou  that  art  to  save,  thine  hour  is  7iigh  ! 
The  sad  world  waiteth  i?i  its  misery, 
The  blind  world  stumbleth  on  its  round  of  pain  ; 
Rise,  Mayans  child  I  wake  !  slumber  not  again  / 

We  are  the  voices  of  the  wandering  wind : 
Wander  thou,  too,  O  Frit  ice,  thy  rest  to  find ; 
Leave  love  for  love  of  lovers,  for  woe's  sake 
Quit  state  for  sorrow,  and  deliverance  make. 

So  sigh  we,  passing  o^er  the  silver  strings, 

To  thee  who  know'st  not  yet  of  earthly  things  ; 

So  say  we;  mocking,  as  we  pass  away. 

These  lovely  shadows  wherewith  thou  dost  play. 


BOOK    THE    THIRD.  53 

Thereafter  it  befell  he  sate  at  eve 
Amid  his  beauteous  Court,  holding  the  hand 
Of  sweet  Yasodhara,  and  some  maid  told  — 
With  breaks  of  music  when  her  rich  voice  dropped  — 
An  ancient  tale  to  speed  the  hour  of  dusk, 
Of  love,  and  of  a  magic  horse,  and  lands 
Wonderful,  distant,  where  pale  peoples  dwelled, 
And  where  the  sun  at  night  sank  into  seas. 
Then  spake  he,  sighing,  "  Chitra  brings  me  back 
The  wind's  song  in  the  strings  with  that  fair  tale. 
Give  her,  Yasodhara,  thy  pearl  for  thanks. 
But  thou,  my  pearl !  is  there  so  wide  a  world? 
Is  there  a  land  which  sees  the  great  sun  roll 
Into  the  waves,  and  are  there  hearts  Uke  ours, 
Countless,  unknown,  not  happy  —  it  may  be  — 
Whom  we  might  succor  if  we  knew  of  them  ? 
Ofttimes  I  marvel,  as  the  Lord  of  day 
Treads  from  the  east  his  kingly  road  of  gold, 
Who  first  on  the  world's  edge  hath  hailed  his  beam, 
The  children  of  the  morning ;  oftentimes, 


54  THE   LIGHT  OF  ASIA. 

Even  in  thine  anns  and  on  thy  breasts,  bright  wife, 

Sore  have  I  panted,  at  the  sun's  decline. 

To  pass  with  him  into  that  crimson  west 

And  see  the  peoples  of  the  evening. 

There  must  be  many  we  should  love  —  how  else  ? 

Now  have  I  in  this  hour  an  ache,  at  last, 

Thy  soft  lips  cannot  kiss  away  :  oh,  girl ! 

O  Chitra  !  you  that  know  of  fairyland  ! 

Where  tether  they  that  swift  steed  of  the  tale  ? 

My  palace  for  one  day  upon  his  back, 

To  ride  and  ride  and  see  the  spread  of  the  earth  ! 

Nay,  if  I  had  yon  callow  vulture's  plumes  — 

The  carrion  heir  of  wider  realms  than  mine  — 

How  would  I  stretch  for  topmost  Himalay, 

Light  where  the  rose-gleam  lingers  on  those  snows, 

And  strain  my  gaze  with  searching  what  is  round  ! 

Why  have  I  never  seen  and  never  sought? 

Tell  me  what  lies  beyond  our  brazen  gates." 

Then  one  replied,  "  The  city  first,  fair  Prince  ! 


BOOK   THE  THIRD.  55 

The  temples,  and  the  gardens,  and  the  groves, 
And  then  the  fields,  and  afterwards  fresh  fields, 
With  nullahs,  maidans,  jungle,  koss  on  koss  ; 
And  next  King  Bimbasara's  realm,  and  then 
The  vast  flat  world,  with  crores  on  crores  of  folk." 
"  Good,"  said  Siddartha,  "  let  the  word  be  sent 
That  Channa  yolk  my  chariot  —  at  noon 
To-morrow  I  shall  ride  and  see  beyond." 

Whereof  they  told  the  King  :  "  Our  Lord,  thy  son, 
Wills  that  his  chariot  be  yoked  at  noon. 
That  he  may  ride  abroad  and  see- mankind." 

"Yea  ! "  spake  the  careful  King,  "  'tis  time  he  see  ! 
But  let  the  criers  go  about  and  bid 
My  city  deck  itself,  so  there  be  met 
No  noisome  sight ;  and  let  none  blind  or  maimed. 
None  that  is  sick  or  stricken  deep  in  years, 
No  leper,  and  no  feeble  folk  come  forth." 
Therefore  the  stones  were  swept,  and  up  and  down 


56  THE    LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

The  water-carriers  sprinkled  all  the  streets 

From  spirting  skins,  the  housewives  scattered  fresh 

Red  powder  on  their  thresholds,  strung  new  wreaths, 

And  trimmed  the  tulsi-bush  before  their  doors. 

The  paintings  on  the  walls  were  heightened  up 

With  liberal  brush,  the  trees  set  thick  with  flags, 

The  idols  gilded ;  in  the  four-went  ways 

Suryadeva  and  the  great  gods  shone 

'Mid  shrines  of  leaves ;  so  that  the  city  seemed 

A  capital  of  some  enchanted  land. 

Also  the  criers  passed,  with  drum  and  gong. 

Proclaiming  loudly,  "  Ho  !  all  citizens. 

The  King  commands  that  there  be  seen  to-day 

No  evil  sight :  let  no  one  blind  or  maimed. 

None  that  is  sick  or  stricken  deep  in  years. 

No  leper,  and  no  feeble  folk  go  forth. 

Let  none,  too,  burn  his  dead  nor  bring  them  out 

Till  nightfall.     Thus  Suddhodana  commands." 

So  all  was  comely  and  the  houses  trim 


BOOK    THE    THIRD,  57 

Throughout  Kapilavastu,  while  the  Prince 
Came  forth  in  painted  car,  wliich  two  steers  drew, 
Snow-white,  with  swinging  dewlaps  and  huge  humps 
Wrinkled  against  the  carved  and  lacquered  yoke. 
Goodly  it  was  to  mark  the  people's  joy 
Greeting  their  Prince  ;  and  glad  Siddartha  waxed 
At  sight  of  all  those  liege  and  friendly  folk 
Bright-clad  and  laughing  as  if  life  were  good. 
"  Fair  is  the  world,"  he  said,  "  it  likes  me  well ! 
And  light  and  kind  these  men  that  are  not  kings. 
And  sweet  my  sisters  here,  who  toil  and  tend ; 
What  have  I  done  for  these  to  make  them  thus  ? 
Why,  if  I  love  them,  should  those  children  know  ? 
I  pray  take  up  yon  pretty  Sakya  boy 
Who  flung  us  flowers,  and  let  him  ride  with  me. 
How  good  it  is  to  reign  in  realms  like  this  ! 
How  simple  pleasure  is,  if  these  be  pleased 
Because  I  come  abroad  !     How  many  things 
I  need  not  if  such  little  households  hold 
Enough  to  make  our  city  full  of  smiles  ! 


58  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Drive,  Channa  !  through  the  gates,  and  let  me  see 
More  of  this  gracious  world  I  have  not  known." 

So  passed  they  through  the  gates,  a  joyous  crowd 
Thronging  about  the  wheels,  whereof  some  ran 
Before  the  oxen,  throwing  wreaths,  some  stroked 
Their  silken  flanks,  some  brought  them  rice  and  cakes. 
All  crying,  "  yai !  jai!  for  our  noble  Prince  !  " 
Thus  all  the  path  was  kept  with  gladsome  looks 
And  filled  with  fair  sights  —  for  the  King's  word  was 
That  such  should  be  —  when  midway  in  the  road. 
Slow  tottering  from  the  hovel  where  he  hid. 
Crept  forth  a  wretch  in  rags,  haggard  and  foul. 
An  old,  old  man,  whose  shrivelled  skin,  sun-tanned, 
Clung  like  a  beast's  hide  to  his  fleshless  bones. 
Bent  was  his  back  with  load  of  many  days, 
His  eyepits  red  with  rust  of  ancient  tears. 
His  dim  orbs  blear  with  rheum,  his  toothless  jaws 
Wagging  with  palsy  and  the  fright  to  see 
So  many  and  such  joy.     One  skinny  hand 


BOOK   THE   THIRD.  59 

Clutched  a  worn  staff  to  prop  his  quavering  limbs, 
And  one  was  pressed  upon  the  ridge  of  ribs 
Whence  came  in  gasps  the  heavy  painful  breath. 
"  Alms  !  "  moaned  he,  "  give,  good  people  !  for  I  die 
To-morrow  or  the  next  day  !  "  then  the  cough 
Choked   him,   but   still  he    stretched    his   palm,   and 

stood 
Blinking,  and  groaning  'mid  his  spasms,  "  Alms  !  " 
Then  those  around  had  wrenched  his  feeble  feet 
Aside,  and  thrust  him  from  the  road  again. 
Saying,  "  The  Prince  !  dost  see  ?  get  to  thy  lair  !  " 
But  that  Siddartha  cried,  "  Let  be  !  let  be  ! 
Channa  !  what  thing  is  this  who  seems  a  man, 
Yet  surely  only  seems,  being  so  bowed. 
So  miserable,  so  horrible,  so  sad  ? 
Are  men  bom  sometimes  thus  ?    What  mcaneth  he 
Moaning  '  to-morrow  or  next  day  I  die  ?  ' 
Finds  he  no  food  that  so  his  bones  jut  forth? 
What  woe  hath  happened  to  this  piteous  one  ?  " 
Then  answer  made  the  charioteer,  "  Sweet  Prince  ! 


6o  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

This  is  no  other  than  an  aged  man. 

Some  fourscore  years  ago  his  back  was  straight, 

His  eye  bright,  and  his  body  goodly  :  now 

The  thievish  years  have  sucked  his  sap  away, 

Pillaged  his  strength  and  filched  his  will  and  wit ; 

His  lamp  has  lost  its  oil,  the  wick  burns  black ; 

What  life  he  keeps  is  one  poor  lingering  spark 

Which  flickers  for  the  finish  :  such  is  age  ; 

Why  should   your  Highness  heed?"      Then   spake  the 

Prince  — 
"  But  shall  this  come  to  others,  or  to  all, 
Or  is  it  rare  that  one  should  be  as  he  ?  " 
"  Most  noble,"  answered  Channa,  "  even  as  he, 
Will  all  these  grow  if  they  shall  live  so  long." 
"  But,"  quoth  the  Prince,  "  if  I  shall  hve  as  long 
Shall  I  be  thus ;  and  if  Yasodhara 
Live  fourscore  years,  is  this  old  age  for  her, 
Jalini,  little  Hasta,  Gautami, 

And  Gunga,  and  the  others  ?  "     "  Yea,  great  Sir  !  " 
The  charioteer  replied.     Then  spake  the  Prince  : 


BOOK   THE   THIRD."  6l 

"  Turn  back,  and  drive  me  to  my  house  again  ! 
I  have  seen  that  I  did  not  think  to  see." 

Which  pondering,  to  his  beauteous  Court  returned 
Wistful  Siddartha,  sad  of  mien  and  mood ; 
Nor  tasted  he  the  white  cakes  nor  the  fruits 
Spread  for  the  evening  feast,  nor  once  looked  up 
While  the  best  palace-dancers  strove  to  charm  : 
Nor  spake  —  save  one  sad  thing  —  when  wofully 
Yasodhara  sank  to  his  feet  and  wept, 
Sighing,  "  Hath  not  my  Lord  comfort  in  me  ?  " 
"  Ah,  Sweet  !  "  he  said,  "  such  comfort  that  my  soul 
Aches,  thinking  it  must  end,  for  it  will  end, 
And  we  shall  both  grow  old,  Yasodhara  ! 
Loveless,  unlovely,  weak,  and  old,  and  bowed. 
Nay,  though  we  locked  up  love  and  life  with  lips 
So  close  that  night  and  day  our  breaths  grew  one, 
Time  would  thrust  in  between  to  filch  away 
My  passion  and  thy  grace,  as  black  Night  steals 
The  rose-gleams  from  yon  peak,  which  fade  to  grey 


62  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

And  are  not  seen  to  fade.     This  have  I  found, 
And  all  my  heart  is  darkened  with  its  dread, 
And  all  my  heart  is  fixed  to  think  how  Love 
Might  save  its  sweetness  from  the  slayer,  Time, 
Who  makes  men  old."    So  through  that  night  he  sate 
Sleepless,  uncomforted. 

And  all  that  night 
The  King  Suddhodana  dreamed  troublous  dreams. 
The  first  fear  of  his  vision  was  a  flag 
Broad,  glorious,  glistening  with  a  golden  sun, 
The  mark  of  Indra ;  but  a  strong  wind  blew. 
Rending  its  folds  divine,  and  dashing  it 
Into  the  dust ;  whereat  a  concourse  came 
Of  shadowy  Ones,  who  took  the  spoiled  silk  up 
And  bore  it  eastward  from  the  city  gates. 
The  second  fear  was  ten  huge  elephants. 
With  silver  tusks  and  feet  that  shook  the  earth, 
TrampHng  the  southern  road  in  mighty  march  ; 
And  he  who  sate  upon  the  foremost  beast 
Was  the  King's  son  —  the  others  followed  him. 


BOOK    THE    THIRD,  6^ 

Tlie  third  fear  of  the  vision  was  a  car, 

Shining  with  blinding  light,  which  four  steeds  drew. 

Snorting  white  smoke  and  champing  fiery  foam  ; 

And  in  the  car  the  Prince  Siddartha  sate. 

The  fourth  fear  was  a  wheel  which  turned  and  turned. 

With  nave  of  burning  gold  and  jewelled  spokes. 

And  strange  things  written  on  the  binding  tire, 

Which  seemed  both  fire  and  music  as  it  whirled. 

The  fifth  fear  was  a  mighty  drum,  set  down 

Midway  between  the  city  and  the  hills, 

On  which  the  Prince  beat  with  an  iron  mace. 

So  that  the  sound  pealed  like  a  thunderstorm, 

Rolling  around  the  sky  and  far  away. 

The  sixth  fear  was  a  tower,  which  rose  and  rose 

High  o'er  the  city  till  its  stately  head 

Shone  crowned  with  clouds,  and  on  the  top  the  Prince 

Stood,  scattering  from  both  hands,  this  way  and  that, 

Gems  of  most  lovely  light,  as  if  it  rained 

Jacynths  and  rubies  ;  and  the  whole  world  came. 

Striving  to  seize  those  treasures  as  they  fell 


64  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Towards  the  four  quarters.     But  the  seventh  fear  was 
A  noise  of  wailing,  and  behold  six  men 
Who  wept  and  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  laid  their  palms 
Upon  their  mouths,  walking  disconsolate. 

These  seven  fears  made  the  vision  of  his  sleep, 
But  none  of  all  his  wisest  dream-readers 
Could  tell  their  meaning.     Then  the  King  was  wroth, 
Saying,  "  There  cometh  evil  to  my  house, 
And  none  of  ye  have  wit  to  help  me  know 
What  the  great  gods  portend  sending  me  this," 
So  in  the  city  men  went  sorrowful 
Because  the  King  had  dreamed  seven  signs  of  fear 
Which  none  could  read ;  but  to  the  gate  there  came 
An  aged  man,  in  robe  of  deer-skin  clad. 
By  guise  a  hermit,  known  to  none  ;  he  cried, 
"  Bring  me  before  the  King,  for  I  can  read 
The  vision  of  his  sleep  ;  "  who,  when  he  heard 
The  sevenfold  mysteries  of  the  midnight  dream, 
Bowed  reverent  and  said,  "  O  Mahardj  ! 


BOOK    THE    THIRD.  6$ 

I  hail  this  favored  House,  whence  shall  arise 
A  wider-reaching  splendor  than  the  sun's  ! 
Lo  !  all  these  seven  fears  are  seven  joys, 
Whereof  the  first,  where  thou  didst  see  a  flag  — 
Broad,  glorious,  gilt  with  Indra's  badge  —  cast  down 
And  carried  out,  did  signify  the  end 
Of  old  faiths  and  beginning  of  the  new, 
For  there  is  change  with  gods  not  less  than  men, 
And  as  the  days  pass  kalpas  pass  at  length. 
The  ten  great  elephants  that  shook  the  earth 
The  ten  great  gifts  of  wisdom  signify, 
In  strength  whereof  the  Prince  shall  quit  his  state 
And  shake  the  world  with  passage  of  the  Truth. 
The  four  flame-breathing  horses  of  tlie  car 
Are  those  four  fearless  virtues  which  shall  bring 
Thy  son  from  doubt  and  gloom  to  gladsome  light ; 
The  wheel  that  turned  with  nave  of  burning  gold 
Was  that  most  precious  Wheel  of  perfect  Law 
Which  he  shall  turn  in  sight  of  all  the  world. 
The  mighty  drum  whereon  the  Prince  did  beat, 

5 


66  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Till  the  sound  filled  all  lands,  doth  signify 

The  thunder  of  the  preaching  of  the  Word 

Which  he  shall  preach ;  the  tower  that  grew  to  heaven 

The  growing  of  the  Gospel  of  this  Buddh 

Sets  forth ;  and  those  rare  jewels  scattered  thence 

The  untold  treasures  are  of  that  good  Law 

To  gods  and  men  dear  and  desirable. 

Such  is  the  interpretation  of  the  tower ; 

But  for  those  six  men  weeping  with  shut  mouths, 

They  are  the  six  chief  teachers  whom  thy  son 

Shall,  with  bright  truth  and  speech  unanswerable, 

Convince  of  foolishness.     O  King  !  rejoice  ; 

The  fortune  of  my  Lord  the  Prince  is  more 

Than  kingdoms,  and  his  hermit-rags  will  be 

Beyond  fine  cloths  of  gold.     This  was  thy  dream  ! 

And  in  seven  nights  and  days  these  things  shall  fall." 

So  spake  the  holy  man,  and  lowly  made 

The  eight  prostrations,  touching  thrice  the  ground ; 

Then  turned  and  passed  ;  but  when  the  King  bade  send 

A  rich  gift  after  him,  the  messengers 


BOOK    THE   THIRD.  6/ 

Brought  word,  "  We  came  to  where  he  entered  in 
At  Chandra's  temple,  but  within  was  none 
Save  a  grey  owl  which  fluttered  from  the  shrine." 
The  gods  come  sometimes  thus. 

But  the  sad  King 
Marvelled,  and  gave  command  that  new  delights 
Be  compassed  to  enthrall  Siddartha's  heart 
Amid  those  dancers  of  his  pleasure-house, 
Also  he  set  at  all  the  brazen  doors 
A  doubled  guard. 

Yet  who  shall  shut  out  Fate  ? 

For  once  again  the  spirit  of  the  Prince 
Was  moved  to  see  this  world  beyond  his  gates, 
This  life  of  man,  so  pleasant  if  its  waves 
Ran  not  to  waste  and  woful  finishing 
In  Time's  dry  sands.     "  I  pray  you  let  me  view 
Our  city  as  it  is,"  such  was  his  prayer 
To  King  Suddhodana.     "  Your  Majesty 
In  tender  heed  hath  warned  the  folk  before 


68  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

To  put  away  ill  things  and  common  sights, 

And  make  their  faces  glad  to  gladden  me, 

And  all  the  causeways  gay ;  yet  have  I  learned 

This  is  not  daily  life,  and  if  I  stand 

Nearest,  my  father,  to  the  realm  and  thee, 

Fain  would  I  know  the  people  and  the  streets. 

Their  simple  usual  ways,  and  workday  deeds. 

And  lives  which  those  men  live  who  are  not  kings. 

Give  me  good  leave,  dear  Lord  !  to  pass  unknown 

Beyond  my  happy  gardens  ;  I  shall  come 

The  more  contented  to  their  peace  again. 

Or  wiser,  father,  if  not  well  content. 

Therefore,  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  at  will 

To-morrow,  with  my  servants,  through  the  streets." 

And  the  King  said,  among  his  Ministers, 

"  Belike  this  second  flight  may  mend  the  first. 

Note  how  the  falcon  starts  at  every  sight 

New  from  his  hood,  but  what  a  quiet  eye 

Comctli  of  freedom  ;  let  my  son  see  all. 

And  bid  them  bring  me  tidings  of  his  mind." 


BOOK    THE    THIRD.  69 

Thus  on  the  morrow,  v/hen  the  noon  was  come, 
The  Prince  and  Channa  passed  beyond  the  gates, 
Which  opened  to  the  signet  of  the  King ; 
Yet  knew  not  they  who  rolled  the  great  doors  back 
It  was  the  King's  son  in  that  merchant's  robe, 
And  in  the  clerkly  dress  his  charioteer. 
Forth  fared  they  by  the  common  way  afoot, 
Mingling  with  all  the  Sakya  citizens, 
Seeing  the  glad  and  sad  things  of  the  town  : 
The  painted  streets  alive  with  hum  of  noon, 
The  traders  cross-legged  'mid  their  spice  and  grain, 
The  buyers  with  their  money  in  the  cloth. 
The  war  of  words  to  cheapen  this  or  that, 
The  shout  to  clear  the  road,  the  huge  stone  wheels, 
The  strong  slow  oxen  and  their  rustUng  loads, 
The  singing  bearers  with  the  palanquins. 
The  broad-necked  hamals  sweating  in  the  sun, 
The  housewives  bearing  water  from  the  well 
With  balanced  chatties,  and  athwart  their  hips 
The  black-eyed  babes  ;  the  fly-swarmed  sweetmeat  shops, 


70  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  weaver  at  his  loom,  the  cotton-bow 
Twanging,  the  millstones  grinding  meal,  the  dogs 
Prowling  for  orts,  the  skilful  armorer 
With  tong  and  hammer  linking  shirts  of  mail, 
Tlie  blacksmith  with  a  mattock  and  a  spear 
Reddening  together  in  his  coals,  the  school 
Where  round  their  Guru,  in  a  grave  half-moon, 
The  Sakya  children  sang  the  mantras  through, 
And  learned  the  greater  and  the  lesser  gods  ; 
The  dyers  stretching  waistcloths  in  the  sun 
Wet  from  the  vats  —  orange,  and  rose,  and  green ; 
The  soldiers  clanking  past  with  swords  and  shields, 
The  camel-drivers  rocking  on  the  humps, 
The  Brahman  proud,  the  martial  Kshatriya, 
The  humble  toiling  Sudra ;  here  a  throng 
Gathered  to  watch  some  chattering  snake-tamer 
Wind  round  his  wrist  the  living  jewellery 
Of  asp  and  nag,  or  charm  the  hooded  death 
To  angry  dance  with  drone  of  beaded  gourd  j 
There  a  long  line  of  drums  and  horns,  which  went. 


BOOK   THE   THIRD.  /I 

With  Steeds  gay  painted  and  silk  canopies, 
To  bring  the  young  bride  home  ;  and  here  a  wife 
Stealing  \vith  cakes  and  garlands  to  the  god 
To  pray  her  husband's  safe  return  from  trade, 
Or  beg  a  boy  next  birth ;  hard  by  the  booths 
Where  the  swart  potters  beat  the  noisy  brass 
For  lamps  and  lotas  ;  thence,  by  temple  walls 
And  gateways,  to  the  river  and  the  bridge 
Under  the  city  walls. 

These  had  they  passed 
When  from  the  roadside  moaned  a  mournful  voice, 
"  Help,  masters  !  hft  me  to  my  feet ;  oh,  help  ! 
Or  I  shall  die  before  I  reach  my  house  !  " 
A  stricken  wretch  it  was,  whose  quivering  frame. 
Caught  by  some  deadly  plague,  lay  in  the  dust 
Writhing,  with  fiery  purple  blotches  specked ; 
The  chill  sweat  beaded  on  his  brow,  his  mouth 
Was  dragged  awry  with  twitchings  of  sore  pain. 
The  wild  eyes  swam  with  inward  agony. 
Gasping,  he  clutched  the  grass  to  rise,  and  rose 


72  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Half-way,  then  sank,  with  quaking  feeble  limbs 

And  scream  of  terror,  crying,  "  Ah,  the  pain  ! 

Good  people,  help  !  "  whereon  Siddartha  ran, 

Lifted  the  woful  man  with  tender  hands, 

With  sweet  looks  laid  the  sick  head  on  his  knee, 

And  while  his  soft  touch  comforted  the  wretch, 

Asked,  "  Brother,  what  is  ill  with  thee  ?  what  harm 

Hath  fallen  ?  wherefore  canst  thou  not  arise  ? 

Why  is  it,  Channa,  that  he  pants  and  moans, 

And  gasps  to  speak  and  sighs  so  pitiful? " 

Then  spake  the  charioteer  :  "  Great  Prince  !  this  man 

Is  smitten  with  some  pest ;  his  elements 

Are  all  confounded  ;  in  his  veins  the  blood. 

Which  ran  a  wholesome  river,  leaps  and  boils 

A  fiery  flood ;  his  heart,  which  kept  good  time, 

Beats  like  an  ill-played  drum-skin,  quick  and  slow ; 

His  sinews  slacken  Hke  a  bow-string  slipped ; 

The  strength  is  gone  from  ham,  and  loin,  and  neck, 

And  all  the  grace  and  joy  of  manhood  fled  : 

This  is  a  sick  man  with  the  fit  upon  him. 


BOOK    THE   THIRD.  73 

See  how  he  plucks  and  plucks  to  seize  his  grief, 

And  rolls  his  bloodshot  orbs,  and  grinds  his  teeth, 

And  draws  his  breath  as  if  'twere  choking  smoke. 

Lo  !  now  he  would  be  dead,  but  shall  not  die 

Until  the  plague  hath  had  its  work  in  him, 

Killing  the  nerves  which  die  before  the  life ; 

Then,  when  his  strings  have  cracked  with  agony 

And  all  his  bones  are  empty  of  the  sense 

To  ache,  the  plague  will  quit  and  light  elsewhere. 

Oh,  sir  !  it  is  not  good  to  hold  him  so  ! 

The  harm  may  pass,  and  strike  thee,  even  thee." 

But  spake  the  Prince,  still  comforting  the  man, 

"  And  are  there  others,  are  there  many  thus  ? 

Or  might  it  be  to  me  as  now  with  him?  " 

"  Great  Lord  !  "  answered  the  charioteer,  "  this  comes 

In  many  forms  to  all  men  ;  griefs  and  wounds. 

Sickness  and  tetters,  palsies,  leprosies, 

Hot  fevers,  watery  wastings,  issues,  blains 

Befall  all  flesh  and  enter  everywhere." 

" Come  such  ills  unobserved? "  the  Prince  inquired. 


74  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

And  Channa  said,  "  Like  the  sly  snake  they  come 

That  stings  unseen ;  like  the  striped  murderer, 

Who  waits  to  spring  from  the  Karunda  bush. 

Hiding  beside  the  jungle  path ;  or  Uke 

The  lightning,  striking  these  and  sparing  those, 

As  chance  may  send." 

"  Then  all  men  live  in  fear?  " 
"  So  live  they.  Prince  !  " 

"  And  none  can  say,  '  I  sleep 
Happy  and  whole  to-night,  and  so  shall  wake? '  " 

"  None  say  it." 

"  And  the  end  of  many  aches. 
Which  come  unseen,  and  will  come  when  they  come, 
Is  this,  a  broken  body  and  sad  mind. 
And  so  old  age  ?  " 

"Yea,  if  men  last  as  long." 

"  But  if  they  cannot  bear  their  agonies. 
Or  if  they  will  not  bear,  and  seek  a  term ; 
Or  if  they  bear,  and  be,  as  this  man  is. 


BOOK    THE   THIRD.  75 

Too  weak  except  for  groans,  and  so  still  live, 
And  growing  old,  grow  older,  then  what  end?  " 

"  They  die.  Prince." 

"Die?" 

"  Yea,  at  the  last  comes  death. 
In  whatsoever  way,  whatever  hour. 
Some  few  grow  old,  most  suffer  and  fall  sick, 
But  all  must  die  —  behold,  where  comes  the  Dead  ! " 

Then  did  Siddartha  raise  his  eyes,  and  see 

Fast  pacing  towards  the  river  brink  a  band 
Of  wailing  people,  foremost  one  who  swung 
An  earthen  bowl  with  lighted  coals,  behind 
The  kinsmen  shorn,  with  mourning  marks,  ungirt, 
Crying  aloud,  "  O  Rama,  Rama,  hear  ! 

Call  upon  Rama,  brothers  ;  "  next  the  bier. 
Knit  of  four  poles  with  bamboos  interlaced. 
Whereon  lay,  stark  and  stiff,  feet  foremost,  lean, 
Chapfallen,  sightless,  hollow-flanked,  a-grin, 


•J^  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Sprinkled  with  red  and  yellow  dust  —  the  Dead, 
Whom  at  the  four-went  ways  they  turned  head  first, 
And  crying  "  Rama,  Rama  !  "  carried  on 
To  where  a  pile  was  reared  beside  the  stream ; 
Thereon  they  laid  him,  building  fuel  up  — 
Good  sleep  hath  one  that  slumbers  on  that  bed  ! 
He  shall  not  wake  for  cold  albeit  he  lies 
Naked  to  all  the  airs  —  for  soon  they  set 
The  red  flame  to  the  corners  four,  which  crept. 
And  licked,  and  flickered,  finding  out  his  flesh 
And  feeding  on  it  with  swift  hissing  tongues, 
And  crackle  of  parched  skin,  and  snap  of  joint ; 
Till  the  fat  smoke  thinned  and  the  ashes  sank 
Scarlet  and  grey,  with  here  and  there  a  bone 
White  midst  the  grey  — "the  total  of  the  man. 

Then  spake  the  Prince  :  "  Is  this  the  end  which  comes 
To  all  who  live  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  end  that  comes 
To  all,"  quoth  Channa;  "  he  upon  the  p>Te  — 


BOOK    THE    THIRD.  JJ 

Whose  remnants  are  so  petty  that  the  crows 

Caw  hungrily,  then  quit  the  fruitless  feast  — 

Ate,  drank,  laughed,  loved,  and  lived,  and  liked  life  well. 

Then  came — who  knows?  —  some  gust  of  jungle-wind, 

A  stumble  on  the  path,  a  taint  in  the  tank, 

A  snake's  nip,  half  a  span  of  angry  steel, 

A  chill,  a  fishbone,  or  a  falling  tile, 

And  life  was  over  and  the  man  is  dead ; 

No  appetites,  no  pleasures,  and  no  pains 

Hath  such ;  the  kiss  upon  his  lips  is  nought. 

The  fire-scorch  nought ;  he  smelleth  not  his  flesh 

A-roast,  nor  yet  the  sandal  and  the  spice 

They  burn  ;  the  taste  is  emptied  from  his  mouth, 

The  hearing  of  his  ears  is  clogged,  the  sight 

Is  blinded  in  his  eyes ;  those  whom  he  loved 

Wail  desolate,  for  even  that  must  go, 

'ilie  body,  which  was  lamp  unto  the  life. 

Or  worms  will  have  a  homd  feast  of  it. 

Here  is  the  common  destiny  of  flesh  : 

The  high  and  low,  the  good  and  bad,  must  die. 


yS  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

And  then,  'tis  taught,  begin  anew  and  live 
Somewhere,  somehow,  —  who  knows  ?  —  and  so  again 
The  pangs,  the  parting,  and  the  lighted  pile  :  — 
Such  is  man's  round." 

But  lo  !  Siddartha  turned 
Eyes  gleaming  with  divine  tears  to  the  sky, 
Eyes  ht  with  heavenly  pity  to  the  earth ; 
From  sky  to  earth  he  looked,  from  earth  to  sky. 
As  if  his  spirit  sought  in  lonely  flight 
Some  far-off  vision,  linking  this  and  that, 
Lost  —  past  —  but  searchable,  but  seen,  but  known. 
Then  cried  he,  while  his  lifted  countenance 
Glowed  with  the  burning  passion  of  a  love 
Unspeakable,  the  ardor  of  a  hope 
Boundless,  insatiate  :  "  Oh  !  suffering  world, 
Oh  !  known  and  unknown  of  my  common  flesh. 
Caught  in  this  common  net  of  death  and  woe. 
And  life  which  binds  to  both  !  I  see,  I  feel 
The  vastness  of  the  agony  of  earth, 
The  vainness  of  its  joys,  the  mockery 


BOOK    THE   THIRD.  79 

Of  all  its  best,  the  anguish  of  its  worst ; 
Since  pleasures  end  in  pain,  and  youth  in  age. 
And  love  in  loss,  and  life  in  hateful  death, 
And  death  in  unknown  lives,  which  will  but  yoke 
Men  to  their  wheel  again  to  whirl  the  round 
Of  false  delights  and  woes  that  are  not  false. 
Me  too  this  lure  hath  cheated,  so  it  seemed 
Lovely  to  live,  and  life  a  sunlit  stream 
For  ever  flowing  in  a  changeless  peace  ; 
Whereas  the  foolish  ripple  of  the  flood 
Dances  so  lightly  down  by  bloom  and  lawn 
Only  to  pour  its  crystal  quicklier 
Into  the  foul  salt  sea.     The  veil  is  rent 
Which  bhnded  me  !     I  am  as  all  these  men 
Who  cry  upon  their  gods  and  are  not  heard 
Or  are  not  heeded  —  yet  there  must  be  aid  ! 
For  them  and  me  and  all  there  must  be  help  ! 
Perchance  the  gods  have  need  of  help  themselves 
Being  so  feeble  that  when  sad  lips  cry 
They  cannot  save  1     I  would  not  let  one  cry 


80  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Whom  I  could  save  !     How  can  it  be  that  Brahm 

Would  make  a  world  and  keep  it  miserable, 

Since,  if  all-powerful,  he  leaves  it  so. 

He  is  not  good,  and  if  not  powerful, 

He  is  not  God? —  Channa  !  lead  home  again  ! 

It  is  enough  !  mine  eyes  have  seen  enough  !  " 

Which  when  the  King  heard,  at  the  gates  he  set 
A  triple  guard,  and  bade  no  man  should  pass 
By  day  or  night,  issuing  or  entering  in, 
Until  the  days  were  numbered  of  that  dream. 


Booft  tl)e  jFourtfj* 


But  when  the  days  were  numbered,  then  befell 

The  parting  of  our  Lord  —  which  was  to  be  — 

Whereby  came  wailing  in  the  Golden  Home, 

Woe  to  the  King  and  sorrow  o'er  the  land. 

But  for  all  flesh  deliverance,  and  that  Law 

Which  —  whoso  hears  —  the  same  shall  make  him  free. 

Softly  the  Indian  night  sinks  on  the  plains 
At  full  moon  in  the  month  of  Chaitra  Shud, 
When  mangoes  redden  and  the  asuka  buds 
Sweeten  the  breeze,  and  Rama's  birthday  comes. 
And  all  the  fields  are  glad  and  all  the  towns. 
Softly  that  night  fell  over  Vishramvan, 
Fragrant  with  blooms  and  jewelled  thick  with  stars. 
And  cool  with  mountain  airs  sighing  adown 

6 


82  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

From  snow-flats  on  Himala  high-outspread ; 
For  the  moon  swung  above  the  eastern  peaks, 
CHmbing  the  spangled  vault,  and  lighting  clear 
Rohini's  ripples  and  the  hills  and  plains. 
And  all  the  sleeping  land,  and  near  at  hand 
Silvering  those  roof-tops  of  the  pleasure-house, 
Where  nothing  stirred  nor  sign  of  watching  was. 
Save  at  the  outer  gates,  whose  warders  cried 
Miidra,  the  watchword,  and  the  countersign 
Anga?ia,  and  the  watch-drums  beat  a  round ; 
Whereat  the  earth  lay  still,  except  for  call 
Of  prowling  jackals,  and  the  ceaseless  trill 
Of  crickets  on  the  garden  grounds. 

Within  — 
Where  the  moon  glittered  through  the  lace-worked  stone, 
Lighting  the  walls  of  pearl-shell  and  the  floors 
Paved  with  veined  marble  —  softly  fell  her  beams 
On  such  rare  company  of  Indian  girls, 
It  seemed  some  chamber  sweet  in  Paradise 


BOOK   THE   FOURTH.  8^ 

Where  Devis  rested.     All  the  chosen  ones 
Of  Prince  Siddartha's  pleasure-home  were  there, 
The  brightest  and  most  faithful  of  the  Court, 
Each  form  so  lovely  in  the  peace  of  sleep. 
That  you  had  said  "  This  is  the  pearl  of  all !  " 
Save  that  beside  her  or  beyond  her  lay 
Fairer  and  fairer,  till  the  pleasured  gaze 
Roamed  o'er  that  feast  of  beauty  as  it  roams 
From  gem  to  gem  in  some  great  goldsmith-work. 
Caught  by  each  color  till  the  next  is  seen. 
With  careless  grace  they  lay,  their  soft  brown  limbs 
Part  hidden,  part  revealed  ;  their  glossy  hair 
Bound  back  with  gold  or  flowers,  or  flowing  loose 
In  black  waves  down  the  shapely  nape  and  neck. 
Lulled  into  pleasant  dreams  by  happy  toils. 
They  slept,  no  wearier  than  jewelled  birds 
Which  sing  and  love  all  day,  then  under  wing 
Fold  head  till  morn  bids  sing  and  love  again. 
Lamps  of  chased  silver  swinging  from  the  roof 
In  silver  chains,  and  fed  with  perfumed  oils, 


84  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Made  with  the  moonbeams  tender  lights  and  shades, 
Whereby  were  seen  the  perfect  lines  of  grace, 
The  bosom's  placid  heave,  the  soft  stained  palms 
Drooping  or  clasped,  the  faces  fair  and  dark, 
The  great  arched  brows,  the  parted  lips,  the  teeth 
Like  pearls  a  merchant  picks  to  make  a  string. 
The  satin-lidded  eyes,  with  lashes  dropped 
Sweeping  the  delicate  cheeks,  the  roimded  wrists, 
The  smooth  small  feet  with  bells  and  bangles  decked. 
Tinkling  low  music  where  some  sleeper  moved, 
Breaking  her  smiUng  dream  of  some  new  dance 
Praised  by  the  Prince,  some  magic  ring  to  find, 
Some  fairy  love-gift.     Here  one  lay  full-length, 
Her  vina  by  her  cheek,  and  in  its  strings 
The  little  fingers  still  all  interlaced 
As  when  the  last  notes  of  her  light  song  played 
Those  radiant  eyes  to  sleep  and  sealed  her  own. 
Another  slumbered  folding  in  her  arms 
A  desert-antelope,  its  slender  head 
Buried  with  back-sloped  horns  between  her  breasts 


BOOK   THE    FOURTH.  85 

Soft  nestling ;  it  was  eating  —  when  both  drowsed  — 
Red  roses,  and  her  loosening  hand  still  held 
A  rose  half-mumbled,  while  a  rose-leaf  curled 
Between  the  deer's  lips.     Here  two  friends  had  dozed 
Together,  weaving  mogra-buds,  which  bound 
Their  sister-sweetness  in  a  starry  chain, 
Linking  them  limb  to  limb  and  heart  to  heart, 
One  pillowed  on  the  blossoms,  one  on  her. 
Another,  ere  she  slept,  was  stringing  stones 
To  make  a  necklet  —  agate,  onyx,  sard, 
Coral,  and  moonstone  —  round  her  wrist  it  gleamed 
A  coil  of  splendid  color,  while  she  held, 
Unthreaded  yet,  the  bead  to  close  it  up 

Green  turkis,  carved  with  golden  gods  and  scripts. 

« 

Lulled  by  tlie  cadence  of  the  garden  btream. 

Thus  lay  they  on  the  clustered  carpets,  each 

A  girhsh  rose  with  shut  leaves,  waiting  dawn 

To  open  and  make  daylight  beautiful.  J|t 

Tliis  was  the  antechamber  of  the  Prince  ; 

But  at  the  purdah's  fringe  the  sweetest  slept  — 


86  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Gunga  and  Gotami  —  chief  ministers 
In  that  still  house  of  love. 

The  purdah  hung, 
Crimson  and  blue,  with  broidered  threads  of  gold, 
Across  a  portal  carved  in  sandal-wood. 
Whence  by  three  steps  the  way  was  to  the  bower 
Of  inmost  splendor,  and  the  marriage-couch 
Set  on  a  dais  soft  with  silver  cloths. 
Where  the  foot  fell  as  though  it  trod  on  piles 
Of  neem-blooms.     All  the  walls  were  plates  of  pearl, 
Cut  shapely  from  the  shells  of  Lanka's  wave  ; 
And  o'er  the  alabaster  roof  there  ran 
Rich  inlayings  of  lotus  and  of  bird, 
Wrought  in  skilled  work  of  lazulite  and  jade, 
Jacynth  and  jasper ;  woven  round  the  dome. 
And  down  the  sides,  and  all  about  the  frames 
Wherein  were  set  the  fretted  lattices, 
Through  which  there  breathed,  with  moonlight  and  cool 

airs. 
Scents  from  the  shell-flowers  and  the  jasinine  sprays  ; 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  8/ 

Not  bringing  thither  grace  or  tenderness 
Sweeter  than  shed  from  those  fair  presences 
Within  the  place  —  the  beauteous  Sakya  Prince, 
And  hers,  the  stately,  bright  Yasodhara. 

Half  risen  from  her  soft  nest  at  his  side, 
The  chuddah  fallen  to  her  waist,  her  brow 
Laid  in  both  palms,  the  lovely  Princess  leaned 
With  heaving  bosom  and  fast  falling  tears. 
Thrice  with  her  lips  she  touched  Siddartha's  hand, 
And  at  the  third  kiss  moaned,  "  Awake,  my  Lord  ! 
Give  me  the  comfort  of  thy  speech  !  "     Then  he  — 
"  What  is  it  with  thee,  O  my  life  ?  "  but  still 
She  moaned  anew  before  the  words  would  come ; 
Then  spake,  "  Alas,  my  Prince  !  I  sank  to  sleep 
Most  happy,  for  tlie  babe  I  bear  of  thee 
Quickened  this  eve,  and  at  my  heart  there  beat 
That  double  pulse  of  life  and  joy  and  love 
Whose  happy  music  lulled  me,  but  —  aho  !  — 
In  slumber  I  beheld  three  sights  of  dread, 


88  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

With  thought  whereof  my  heart  is  throbbing  yet. 

I  saw  a  white  bull  with  wide  branching  horns, 

A  lord  of  pastures,  pacing  through  the  streets, 

Bearing  upon  his  front  a  gem  which  shone 

As  if  some  star  had  dropped  to  glitter  there, 

Or  like  the  kantha-stone  the  great  Snake  keeps 

To  make  bright  daylight  underneath  the  earth. 

Slow  through  the  streets  towards  the  gates  he  paced, 

And  none  could  stay  him,  though  there  came  a  voice 

From  Indra's  temple,  '  If  ye  stay  him  not, 

The  glory  of  the  city  goeth  forth.' 

Yet  none  could  stay  him.     Then  I  wept  aloud. 

And  locked  my  arms  about  his  neck,  and  strove, 

And  bade  them  bar  the  gates ;  but  that  ox-king 

Bellowed,  and,  lightly  tossing  free  his  crest. 

Broke  from  my  clasp,  and  bursting  through  the  bars. 

Trampled  the  warders  down  and  passed  away. 

The  next  strange  dream  was  this  :  Four  Presences 

Splendid,  with  shining  eyes,  so  beautiful 

They  seemed  the  Regents  of  the  Earth  who  dwell 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  89 

On  Mount  Sumeru,  lighting  from  the  sky 

With  retinue  of  countless  heavenly  ones, 

Swift  swept  unto  our  city,  where  I  saw 

The  golden  flag  of  Indra  on  the  gate 

Flutter  and  fall ;  and  lo  !  there  rose  instead 

A  glorious  banner,  all  the  folds  whereof 

Rippled  with  flashing  fire  of  rubies  sewn 

Thick  on  the  silver  threads,  the  rays  wherefrom 

Set  forth  new  words  and  weighty  sentences 

Whose  message  made  all  living  creatures  glad ; 

And  from  the  east  the  wind  of  sunrise  blew 

With  tender  waft,  opening  those  jewelled  scrolls 

So  that  all  flesh  might  read  ;  and  wondrous  blooms  — 

Plucked  in  what  clime  I  know  not  —  fell  in  showers. 

Colored  as  none  are  colored  in  our  groves." 

Then  spake  the  Prince  :  "  All  this,  my  Lotus-flower  ! 
Was  good  to  see." 

"  Ay,  Lord,"  the  Princess  said, 
"  Save  that  it  ended  with  a  voice  of  fear 


90  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Crying,  '  The  time  is  nigh  !  the  time  is  nigh  ! ' 
Thereat  the  third  dream  came ;  for  when  I  sought 
Thy  side,  sweet  Lord  !  ah,  on  our  bed  there  lay 
An  unpressed  pillow  and  an  empty  robe  — 
,  Nothing  of  thee  but  those  !  —  nothing  of  thee. 
Who  art  my  hfe  and  light,  my  king,  my  world  ! 
And  sleeping  still  I  rose,  and  sleeping  saw 
Thy  belt  of  pearls,  tied  here  below  my  breasts, 
Change  to  a  stinging  snake ;  my  ankle-rings 
Fall  off,  my  golden  bangles  part  and  fall ; 
The  jasmines  in  my  hair  wither  to  dust ; 
While  this  our  bridal-couch  sank  to  the  ground. 
And  something  rent  the  crimson  purdah  down ; 
Then  far  away  I  heard  the  white  bull  low, 
And  far  away  the  embroidered  banner  flap, 
And  once  again  that  cry,  *  The  time  is  come  ! ' 
But  with  that  cry  —  which  shakes  my  spirit  still  — 
I  woke  !     O  Prince  !  what  may  such  visions  mean 
Except  I  die,  or  —  worse  than  any  death  — 
Thou  shouldst  forsake  me  or  be  taken?" 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  9I 

Sweet 
As  the  last  smile  of  sunset  was  the  look 
Siddartha  bent. upon  his  weeping  wife. 
"  Comfort  thee,  dear  !  "  he  said,  "  if  comfort  lives 
In  changeless  love  ;  for  though  thy  dreams  may  be 
Shadows  of  things  to  come,  and  though  the  gods 
Are  shaken  in  their  seats,  and  though  the  world 
Stands  nigh,  perchance,  to  know  some  way  of  help, 
Yet,  whatsoever  fall  to  thee  and  me, 
Be  sure  I  loved  and  love  Yasodhara. 
Thou  knowest  how  I  muse  these  many  moons, 
Seeking  to  save  the  sad  earth  I  have  seen  ; 
And  when  the  time  comes,  that  which  will  be  will. 
But  if  my  soul  yearns  sore  for  souls  unknown. 
And  if  I  grieve  for  griefs  which  are  not  mine. 
Judge  how  my  high-winged  thoughts  must  hover  here 
O'er  all  these  lives  that  share  and  sweeten  mine  — 
So  dear  !  and  thine  the  dearest,  gentlest,  best, 
And  nearest.     Ah,  thou  mother  of  my  babe  ! 
Whose  body  mixed  with  mine  for  tliis  f;\ir  hope, 


92  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

When  most  my  spirit  wanders,  ranging  round 
The  lands  and  seas  —  as  full  of  ruth  for  men 
As  the  far-flying  dove  is  full  of  ruth 
For  her  twin  nestlings  —  ever  it  has  come 
•Home  with  glad  wing  and  passionate  plumes  to  thee, 
Who  art  the  sweetness  of  my  kind  best  seen, 
The  utmost  of  their  good,  the  tenderest 
Of  all  their  tenderness,  mine  most  of  all. 
Therefore,  whatever  after  this  betide, 
Bethink  thee  of  that  lordly  bull  which  lowed, 
That  jewelled  banner  in  thy  dream  which  waved 
Its  folds  departing,  and  of  this  be  sure, 
Always  I  loved  and  always  love  thee  well, 
And  what  I  sought  for  all  sought  most  for  thee. 
But  thou,  take  comfort ;  and,  if  sorrow  falls. 
Take  comfort  still  in  deeming  there  may  be 
A  way  of  peace  on  earth  by  woes  of  ours  ; 
And  have  with  this  embrace  what  faithful  love 
Can  think  of  thanks  or  frame  for  benison  — 
Too  little,  seeing  love's  strong  self  is  weak  — 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  93 

Yet  kiss  me  on  the  mouth,  and  drink  these  words 
From  heart  to  heart  therewith,  that  thou  mayst  know  — 
What  others  will  not  —  that  I  loved  thee  most 
Because  I  loved  so  well  all  living  souls. 
Now,  Princess  !  rest,  for  I  will  rise  and  watch." 

Then  in  her  tears  she  slept,  but  sleeping  sighed  — 
As  if  that  vision  passed  again  —  "  The  time  ! 
The  time  is  come  ! "     Whereat  Siddartha  turned, 
And,  lo  !  the  moon  shone  by  the  Crab  !  the  stars 
In  that  same  silver  order  long  foretold 
Stood  ranged  to  say,  "  This  is  the  night !  —  choose  thou 
The  way  of  greatness  or  the  way  of  good  : 
To  reign  a  King  of  kings,  or  wander  lone, 
Crownless  and  homeless,  that  the  world  be  helped." 
Moreover,  with  the  whispers  of  the  gloom 
Came  to  his  ears  again  that  warning  song. 
As  when  the  Devas  spoke  upon  the  wind  : 
And  surely  Gods  were  round  about  the  place 
Watching  our  Lord,  who  watched  the  shining  stars. 


94  THE    LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

"  I  will  depart,"  he  spake  ;  "  the  hour  is  come  ! 
Thy  tender  lips,  dear  sleeper,  summon  me 
To  that  which  saves  the  earth  but  sunders  us ; 
And  in  the  silence  of  yon  sky  I  read 
My  fated  message  flashing.     Unto  this 
Came  I,  and  unto  this  all  nights  and  days 
Have  led  me  ;  for  I  will  not  have  that  crown 
Which  may  be  mine  :  I  lay  aside  those  realms 
Which  wait  the  gleaming  of  my  naked  sword  : 
My  chariot  shall  not  roll  with  bloody  wheels 
From  victory  to  victory,  till  earth 
Wears  the  red  record  of  my  name.     I  choose 
To  tread  its  paths  with  patient,  stainless  feet. 
Making  its  dust  my  bed,  its  loneliest  wastes 
My  dwelling,  and  its  meanest  things  my  mates : 
Clad  in  no  prouder  garb  than  outcasts  wear, 
Fed  with  no  meats  save  what  the  charitable 
Give  of  their  will,  sheltered  by  no  more  pomp 
Than  the  dim  cave  lends  or  the  jungle-bush. 
This  will  I  do  because  the  woful  cry 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  95 

Of  life  and  all  flesh  living  cometh  up 

Into  my  ears,  and  all  my  soul  is  full 

Of  pity  for  the  sickness  of  this  world  ; 

Which  I  will  heal,  if  healing  may  be  found 

By  uttermost  renouncing  and  strong  strife. 

For  which  of  all  the  great  and  lesser  Gods 

Have  power  or  pity  ?    Who  hath  seen  them  —  who  ? 

What  have  they  wrought  to  help  their  worshippers  ? 

How  hath  it  steaded  man  to  pray,  and  pay 

Tithes  of  the  com  and  oil,  to  chant  the  charms, 

To  slay  the  shrieking  sacrifice,  to  rear 

The  stately  fane,  to  feed  the  priests,  and  call 

On  Vishnu,  Shiva,  Surya,  who  save 

None  —  not  the  worthiest  —  from  the  griefs  that  teach 

Those  litanies  of  flattery  and  fear 

Ascending  day  by  day,  like  wasted  smoke  ? 

Hath  any  of  my  brothers  'scaped  thereby 

The  aches  of  life,  the  stings  of  love  and  loss, 

The  fiery  fever  and  the  ague-shake. 

The  slow,  dull  sinking  into  withered  age, 


96  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  horrible  dark  death  —  and  what  beyond 

Waits  —  till  the  whirling  wheel  comes  up  again, 

And  new  lives  bring  new  sorrows  to  be  borne, 

New  generations  for  the  new  desires 

Which  have  their  end  in  the  old  mockeries  ? 

Hath  any  of  my  tender  sisters  found 

Fruit  of  the  fast  or  harvest  of  the  hymn, 

Or  bought  one  pang  the  less  at  bearing-time 

For  white  curds  offered  and  trim  tulsi-leaves  ? 

Nay ;  it  may  be  some  of  the  Gods  are  good 

And  evil  some,  but  all  in  action  weak ; 

Both  pitiful  and  pitiless,  and  both  — 

As  men  are  —  bound  upon  this  wheel  of  change. 

Knowing  the  former  and  the  after  lives. 

For  so  our  scriptures  truly  seem  to  teach, 

That  —  once,  and  wheresoe'er,  and  whence  begun  ■ 

Life  runs  its  rounds  of  living,  climbing  up 

From  mote,  and  gnat,  and  worm,  reptile,  and  fish. 

Bird  and  shagged  beast,  man,  demon,  deva,  God, 

To  clod  and  mote  again  ;  so  arc  we  kin 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  97 

To  all  that  is  ;  and  thus,  if  one  might  save 
Man  from  his  curse,  the  whole  wide  world  should  share 
The  lightened  horror  of  this  ignorance 
Whose  shadow  is  chill  fear,  and  cruelty 
Its  bitter  pastime.     Yea,  if  one  might  save  ! 
And  means  must  be  !    There  must  be  refuge  !    Men 
Perished  in  winter-winds  till  one  smote  fire 
From  flint-stones  coldly  hiding  what  they  held, 
The  red  spark  treasured  from  the  kindling  sun. 
They  gorged  on  flesh  like  wolves,  till  one  sowed  com, 
Which  grew  a  weed,  yet  makes  the  life  of  man  ; 
They  mowed  and  babbled  till  some  tongue  struck  speech. 
And  patient  fingers  framed  the  lettered  sound. 
What  good  gift  have  my  brothers,  but  it  came 
From  search  and  strife  and  loving  sacrifice  ? 
If  one,  then,  being  great  and  fortunate. 
Rich,  dowered  with  health  and  ease,  from  birth  designed 
To  rule  —  if  he  would  rule  —  a  King  of  kings  ; 
If  one,  not  tired  with  life's  long  day  but  glad 
r  the  freshness  of  its  morning,  one  not  cloyed 

7 


98  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

With  love's  delicious  feasts,  but  hungry  still ; 

If  one  not  worn  and  wrinkled,  sadly  sage, 

But  joyous  in  the  glory  and  the  grace 

That  mix  with  evils  here,  and  free  to  choose 

Earth's  lovehest  at  his  will :  one  even  as  I, 

Who  ache  not,  lack  not,  grieve  not,  save  with  griefs 

Which  are  not  mine,  except  as  I  am  man ;  — 

If  such  a  one,  having  so  much  to  give, 

Gave  all,  laying  it  down  for  love  of  men. 

And  thenceforth  spent  himself  to  search  for  truth. 

Wringing  the  secret  of  deliverance  forth. 

Whether  it  lurk  in  hells  or  hide  in  heavens. 

Or  hover,  unrevealed,  nigh  unto  all : 

Surely  at  last,  far  off,  sometime,  somewhere, 

The  veil  would  lift  for  his  deep-searching  eyes. 

The  road  would  open  for  his  painful  feet. 

That  should  be  won  for  which  he  lost  the  world, 

And  Death  might  find  him  conqueror  of  death. 

This  will  I  do,  who  have  a  realm  to  lose, 

Because  I  love  my  realm,  because  my  heart 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  99 

Beats  with  each  throb  of  all  the  hearts  that  ache, 

Kno\vn  and  unknown,  these  that  are  mine  and  those 

Which  shall  be  mine,  a  thousand  million  more 

Saved  by  this  sacrifice  I  offer  now. 

Oh,  summoning  stars  !  I  come  !     Oh,  mournful  earth  ! 

For  thee  and  thine  I  lay  aside  my  youth, 

My  throne,  my  joys,  my  golden  days,  my  nights. 

My  happy  palace  —  and  thine  arms,  sweet  Queen  ! 

Harder  to  put  aside  than  all  the  rest ! 

Yet  thee,  too,  I  shall  save,  saving  this  earth ; 

And  that  which  stirs  within  thy  tender  womb, 

My  child,  the  hidden  blossom  of  our  loves, 

Whom  if  I  wait  to  bless  my  mind  will  fail. 

Wife  !  child  !  father  !  and  people  !  ye  must  share 

A  little  while  the  anguish  of  this  hour 

That  light  may  break  and  all  flesh  learn  the  Law. 

Now  am  I  fixed,  and  now  I  will  depart. 

Never  to  come  again  till  what  I  seek 

Be  found  —  if  fervent  search  and  strife  avail." 


lOO  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

So  with  his  brow  he  touched  her  feet,  and  bent 
The  farewell  of  fond  eyes,  unutterable, 
Upon  her  sleeping  face,  still  wet  with  tears  ; 
And  thrice  around  the  bed  in  reverence, 
As  though  it  were  an  altar,  softly  stepped 
With  clasped  hands  laid  upon  his  beating  heart, 
"  For  never,"  spake  he,  "  lie  I  there  again  !  " 
And  thrice  he  made  to  go,  but  thrice  came  back, 
So  strong  her  beauty  was,  so  large  his  love  : 
Then,  o'er  his  head  drawing  his  cloth,  he  turned 
And  raised  the  purdah's  edge  : 

There  drooped,  close-hushed, 
In  such  sealed  sleep  as  water-lilies  know, 
The  lovely  garden  of  his  Indian  girls ; 
That  twin  dark-petalled  lotus-buds  of  all  — 
Gunga  and  Gotami  —  on  either  side. 
And  those,  their  silk-leaved  sisterhood,  beyond. 
"  Pleasant  ye  are  to  me,  sweet  friends  !  "  he  said, 
"  And  dear  to  leave  ;  yet  if  I  leave  ye  not 
What  else  will  come  to  all  of  us  save  eld 


BOOK   THE   FOURTH.  lOI 

Without  assuage  and  death  without  avail  ? 

Lo  !  as  ye  lie  asleep  so  must  ye  lie 

A-dead ;  and  when  the  rose  dies  where  are  gone 

Its  scent  and  splendor  ?  when  the  lamp  is  drained 

Whither  is  fled  the  flame  ?     Press  heavy,  Night ! 

Upon  their  down-dropped  lids  and  seal  their  lips, 

That  no  tear  stay  me  and  no  faithful  voice. 

For  all  the  brighter  that  these  made  my  hfe, 

The  bitterer  it  is  that  they  and  I, 

And  all,  should  live  as  trees  do  —  so  much  spring. 

Such  and  such  rains  and  frosts,  such  winter-times, 

And  then  dead  leaves,  with  maybe  spring  again, 

Or  axe-stroke  at  the  root.     This  will  not  I, 

Whose  life  here  was  a  God's  !  —  this  would  not  I, 

Though  all  my  days  were  godlike,  while  men  moan 

Under  their  darkness.     Therefore  farewell,  friends  ! 

While  life  is  good  to  give,  I  give,  and  go 

To  seek  deliverance  and  that  unknown  Light !  " 

Then,  lightly  treading  where  those  sleepers  lay, 


102  THE   LIGHT    OF   ASIA. 

Into  the  night  Siddartha  passed  :  its  eyes, 
The  watchful  stars,  looked  love  on  him  :  its  breath, 
The  wandering  wind,  kissed  his  robe's  fluttered  fringe  ; 
The  garden-blossoms,  folded  for  the  dawn, 
Opened  their  velvet  hearts  to  waft  him  scents 
From  pink  and  purple  censers :  o'er  the  land, 
From  Himalay  unto  the  Indian  Sea, 
A  tremor  spread,  as  if  earth's  soul  beneath 
Stirred  with  an  unknown  hope  ;  and  holy  books  — 
Which  tell  the  story  of  our  Lord  —  say,  too. 
That  rich  celestial  musics  thrilled  the  air 
From  hosts  on  hosts  of  shining  ones,  who  thronged 
Eastward  and  westward,  making  bright  the  night  — 
Northward  and  southward,  making  glad  the  ground. 
Also  those  four  dread  Regents  of  the  Earth, 
Descending  at  the  doorway,  two  by  two,  — 
With  their  bright  legions  of  Invisibles 
In  arms  of  sapphire,  silver,  gold,  and  pearl  — 
Watched  with    joined   hands   the    Indian    Prince,   who 
stood. 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  IO3 

His  tearful  eyes  raised  to  the  stars,  and  lips 
Close-set  with  purpose  of  prodigious  love. 

Then  strode  he  forth  into  the  gloom  and  cried, 
"  Channa,  awake  !  and  bring  out  Kantaka  !  " 

"  What  would  my  Lord  ?  "  the  charioteer  replied  — 
Slow-rising  from  his  place  beside  the  gate  — 
" To  ride  at  night  when  all  the  ways  are  dark?  " 

"  Speak  low,"  Siddartha  said,  "  and  bring  my  horse, 
For  now  the  hour  is  come  when  I  should  quit 
This  golden  prison  where  my  heart  lives  caged 
To  find  the  truth  ;  which  henceforth  I  will  seek, 
For  all  men's  sake,  until  the  truth  be  found." 

"  Alas  !  dear  Prince,"  answered  the  charioteer, 
"  Spake  then  for  nought  those  wise  and  holy  men 
Who  cast  the  stars  and  bade  us  wait  the  time 
When  King  Suddhodana's  great  son  should  rule 


I04  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Realms  upon  realms,  and  be  a  Lord  of  lords? 
Wilt  thou  ride  hence  and  let  the  rich  world  slip 
Out  of  thy  grasp,  to  hold  a  beggar's  bowl  ? 
Wilt  thou  go  forth  into  the  friendless  waste 
That  hast  this  Paradise  of  pleasures  here  ?  " 

The  Prince  made  answer,  "  Unto  this  I  came, 
And  not  for  thrones  :  the  kingdom  that  I  crave 
Is  more  than  many  realms  —  and  all  things  pass 
To  change  and  death.     Bring  me  forth  Kantaka  ! " 

"  Most  honored,"  spake  again  the  charioteer, 
"  Bethink  thee  of  my  Lord  thy  father's  grief ! 
Bethink  thee  of  their  woe  whose  bliss  thou  art  — 
How  shalt  thou  help  them,  first  undoing  them  ?  " 

Siddartha  answered,  "  Friend,  that  love  is  false 
Which  clings  to  love  for  selfish  sweets  of  love ; 
But  I,  who  love  these  more  than  joys  of  mine  — 
Yea,  more  than  joy  of  theirs  —  depart  to  save 


BOOK   THE    FOURTH.  IO5 

Them  and  all  flesh,  if  utmost  love  avail. 
Go,  bring  me  Kantaka  1 " 

Then  Channa  said, 
"  Master,  I  go  !  "  and  forthwith,  mournfully, 
Unto  the  stall  he  passed,  and  from  the  rack 
Took  down  the  silver  bit  and  bridle-chains, 
Breast-cord  and  curb,  and  knitted  fast  the  straps, 
And  linked  the  hooks,  and  led  out  Kantaka : 
Whom  tethering  to  the  ring,  he  combed  and  dressed, 
Stroking  the  snowy  coat  to  silken  gloss  ; 
Next  on  the  steed  he  laid  the  numdah  square, 
Fitted  the  saddle-cloth  across,  and  set 
The  saddle  fair,  drew  tight  the  jewelled  girths. 
Buckled  the  breech-bands  and  the  martingale. 
And  made  fall  both  the  stirrups  of  worked  gold. 
Then  over  all  he  cast  a  golden  net. 
With  tassels  of  seed-pearl  and  silken  strings. 
And  led  the  great  horse  to  the  palace  door, 
Where  stood  the  Prince ;  but  when  he  saw  his  Lord, 


I06  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Right  glad  he  waxed  and  joyously  he  neighed, 
Spreading  his  scarlet  nostrils  ;  and  the  books 
Write,  "  Surely  all  had  heard  Kantaka's  neigh, 
And  that  strong  trampling  of  his  iron  heels, 
Save  that  the  Devas  laid  their  unseen  wings 
Over  their  ears  and  kept  the  sleepers  deaf." 

Fondly  Siddartha  drew  the  proud  head  down, 
Patted  the  shining  neck,  and  said,  "  Be  still. 
White  Kantaka  !  be  still,  and  bear  me  now 
The  farthest  journey  ever  rider  rode  ; 
For  this  night  take  I  horse  to  find  the  truth. 
And  where  my  quest  will  end  yet  know  I  not, 
Save  that  it  shall  not  end  until  I  find. 
Therefore  to-night,  good  steed,  be  fierce  and  bold  ! 
Let  nothing  stay  thee,  though  a  thousand  blades 
Deny  the  road  !  let  neither   wall  nor  moat 
Forbid  our  flight !     Look  !  if  I  touch  thy  flank 
And  cry,  *  On,  Kantaka  ! '  let  whirlwinds  lag 
Behind  thy  course  !     Be  fire  and  air,  my  horse  ! 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  lO/ 

To  Stead  thy  Lord,  so  shalt  thou  share  with  him 
The  greatness  of  this  deed  which  helps  the  world  ; 
For  therefore  ride  I,  not  for  men  alone, 
But  for  all  things  which,  speechless,  share  our  pain 
And  have  no  hope,  nor  wit  to  ask  for  hope. 
Now,  therefore,  bear  thy  master  valorously  !  " 

Then  to  the  saddle  lightly  leaping,  he 
Touched  the  arched  crest,  and  Kantaka  sprang  forth 
With  armed  hoofs  sparkling  on  the  stones  and  ring 
Of  champing  bit ;  but  none  did  hear  that  sound, 
For  that  the  Suddha  Devas,  gathering  near, 
Plucked  the  red  mohra-flowers  and  strewed  them  thick 
Under  his  tread,  while  hands  invisible 
Muffled  the  ringing  bit  and  bridle  chains. 
Moreover,  it  is  written  wlicn  tliey  came 
Upon  the  pavement  near  the  inner  gates. 
The  Yakshas  of  the  air  laid  magic  cloths 
Under  the  stallion's  feet,  so  that  he  went 
Softly  and  still. 


I08  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

But  when  they  reached  the  gate 
Of  tripled  brass  —  which  hardly  fivescore  men 
Served  to  unbar  and  open  —  lo  !   the  doors 
Rolled  back  all  silently,  though  one  might  hear 
In  daytime  two  koss  off  the  thunderous  roar 
Of  those  grim  hinges  and  unwieldy  plates. 

Also  the  middle  and  the  outer  gates 
Unfolded  each  their  monstrous  portals  thus 
In  silence  as  Siddartha  and  his  steed 
Drew  near ;  while  underneath  their  shadow  lay, 
Silent  as  dead  men,  all  those  chosen  guards  — 
The  lance  and  sword  let  fall,  the  shields  unbraced, 
Captains  and  soldiers  —  for  there  came  a  wind, 
Drowsier  than  blows  o'er  Malwa's  fields  of  sleep, 
Before  the  Prince's  path,  which,  being  breathed, 
Lulled  every  sense  aswoon  :  and  so  he  passed 
Free  from  the  palace. 

When  the  morning  star 
Stood  half  a  spear's  length  from  tlie  eastern  rim, 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH.  IO9 

And  o'er  the  earth  the  breath  of  morning  sighed 
Rippling  Anoma's  wave,  the  border-stream, 
Then  drew  he  rein,  and  leaped  to  earth  and  kissed 
White  Kantaka  betwixt  the  ears,  and  spake 
Full  sweet  to  Channa  :  "  This  which  thou  hast  done 
Shall  bring  thee  good  and  bring  all  creatures  good. 
Be  sure  I  love  thee  always  for  thy  love. 
Lead  back  my  horse  and  take  my  crest-pearl  here, 
My  princely  robes,  which  henceforth  stead  me  not. 
My  jewelled  sword-belt  and  my  sword,  and  these 
The  long  locks  by  its  bright  edge  severed  thus 
From  off  my  brows.     Give  the  King  all,  and  say 
Siddartha  prays  forget  him  till  he  come 
Ten  times  a  Prince,  with  royal  wisdom  won 
From  lonely  searchings  and  the  strife  for  light ; 
Where,  if  I  conquer,  lo  !  all  earth  is  mine  — 
Mine  by  chief  service  !  —  tell  him  —  mine  by  love  ! 
Since  there  is  hope  for  man  only  in  man, 
And  none  hath  sought  for  this  as  I  will  seek, 
Who  cast  away  my  world  to  save  my  world." 


Book  tfje  JFtftfi* 


Round  Rajagriha  five  fair  hills  arose, 

Guarding  King  Bimbasara's  sylvan  town  : 

Baibhara,  green  with  lemon-grass  and  palms  ; 

Bipulla,  at  whose  foot  thin  Sarsuti 

Steals  with  warm  ripple  ;  shadowy  Tapovan, 

Whose  steaming  pools  mirror  black  rocks,  which  ooze 

Sovereign  earth-butter  from  their  rugged  roofs ; 

South-east  the  vulture-peak  Sailagiri ; 

And  eastward  Ratnagiri,  hill  of  gems. 

A  winding  track,  paven  with  footworn  slabs, 

Leads  thee  by  safflower  fields  and  bamboo  tufts 

Under  dark  mangoes  and  the  jujube-trees, 

Past  milk-white  veins  of  rock  and  jasper  crags, 

Low  cliff  and  flats  of  jungle-flowers,  to  where 


BOOK   THE   FIFTH,  III 

The  shoulder  of  that  mountain,  sloping  west, 
O'erhangs  a  cave  with  wild  figs  canopied. 
Lo  !  thou  who  comest  thither,  bare  thy  feet 
And  bow  thy  head  !  for  all  this  spacious  earth 
Hath  not  a  spot  more  dear  and  hallowed.     Here 
Lord  Buddha  sate  the  scorching  summers  through. 
The  driving  rains,  the  chilly  dawns  and  eves ; 
Wearing  for  all  men's  sakes  the  yellow  robe. 
Eating  in  beggar's  guise  the  scanty  meal 
Chance-gathered  from  the  charitable  ;  at  night 
Couched  on  the  grass,  homeless,  alone  ;  while  yelped 
The  sleepless  jackals  round  his  cave,  or  coughs 
Of  famished  tiger  from  the  thicket  broke. 
By  day  and  night  here  dwelt  the  World-honored, 
Subduing  that  fair  body  bom  for  bliss 
With  fast  and  frequent  watch  and  search  intense 
Of  silent  meditation,  so  prolonged 
That  ofttimes  while  he  mused  —  as  motionless 
As  the  fixed  rock  his  seat  —  the  squirrel  leaped 
Upon  his  knee,  the  timid  quail  led  forth 


112  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Her  brood  between  his  feet,  and  blue  doves  pecked 
The  rice-grains  from  the  bowl  beside  his  hand. 

Thus  would  he  muse  from  noontide  —  when  the  land 
Shimmered  with  heat,  and  walls  and  temples  danced 
In  the  reeking  air  —  till  sunset,  noting  not 
The  blazing  globe  roll  down,  nor  evening  glide, 
Purple  and  swift,  across  the  softened  fields ; 
Nor  the  still  coming  of  the  stars,  nor  throb 
Of  drum-skins  in  the  busy  town,  nor  screech 
Of  owl  and  night-jar ;  wholly  wrapt  from  self 
In  keen  unravelling  of  the  threads  of  thought 
And  steadfast  pacing  of  life's  labyrinths. 
Thus  would  he  sit  till  midnight  hushed  the  world, 
Save  where  the  beasts  of  darkness  in  the  brake 
Crept  and  cried  out,  as  fear  and  hatred  cry. 
As  lust  and  avarice  and  anger  creep 
In  the  black  jungles  of  man's  ignorance. 
Then  slept  he  for  what  space  the  fleet  moon  asks 
To  swim  a  tenth  part  of  her  cloudy  sea ; 


BOOK  THE   FIFTH.  II3 

But  rose  ere  the  False-dawn,  and  stood  again 
Wistful  on  some  dark  platform  of  his  hill, 
Watching  the  sleeping  earth  with  ardent  eyes 
And  thoughts  embracing  all  its  living  things, 
While  o'er  the  waving  fields  that  murmur  moved 
Which  is  the  kiss  of  Mom  waking  the  lands. 
And  in  the  east  that  miracle  of  Day- 
Gathered  and  grew.     At  first  a  dusk  so  dim 
Night  seems  still  unaware  of  whispered  dawn, 
But  soon  —  before  the  jungle-cock  crows  twice  — 
A  white  verge  clear,  a  widening,  brightening  white, 
High  as  the  herald-star,  which  fades  in  floods 
Of  silver,  warming  into  pale  gold,  caught 
By  topmost  clouds,  and  flaming  on  their  rims 
To  fervent  golden  glow,  flushed  from  the  brink 
With  saffron,  scarlet,  crimson,  amethyst ; 
Whereat  the  sky  burns  splendid  to  the  blue, 
And,  robed  in  raiment  of  glad  light,  the  King 
Of  Life  and  Glory  cometh  ! 


114  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Then  our  Lord, 
After  the  manner  of  a  Rishi,  hailed 
The  rising  orb,  and  went  —  ablutions  made  — 
Down  by  the  winding  path  unto  the  town ; 
And  in  the  fashion  of  a  Rishi  passed 
From  street  to  street,  with  begging-bowl  in  hand, 
Gathering  the  little  pittance  of  his  needs. 
Soon  was  it  filled,  for  all  the  townsmen  cried, 
"  Take  of  our  store,  great  sir  ! "  and  "  Take  of  ours  !  " 
Marking  his  godlike  face  and  eyes  enwrapt ; 
And  mothers,  when  they  saw  our  Lord  go  by, 
Would  bid  their  children  fall  to  kiss  his  feet. 
And  lift  his  robe's  hem  to  their  brows,  or  run 
To  fill  his  jar,  and  fetch  him  milk  and  cakes. 
And  ofttimes  as  he  paced,  gentle  and  slow, 
Radiant  with  heavenly  pity,  lost  in  care 
For  those  he  knew  not,  save  as  fellow-lives, 
The  dark  surprised  eyes  of  some  Lidian  maid 
Would  dwell  in  sudden  love  and  worship  deep 
On  that  majestic  form,  as  if  she  saw 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  II5 

Her  dreams  of  tenderest  thought  made  true,  and  grace 

Fairer  than  mortal  fire  her  breast.     But  he 

Passed  onward  with  the  bowl  and  yellow  robe, 

By  mild  speech  paying  all  those  gifts  of  hearts, 

Wending  his  way  back  to  the  solitudes 

To  sit  upon  his  hill  with  holy  men. 

And  hear  and  ask  of  wisdom  and  its  roads. 

Midway  on  Ratnagiri's  groves  of  calm, 
Beyond  the  city,  but  below  the  caves, 
Lodged  such  as  hold  the  body  foe  to  soul, 
And  flesh  a  beast  which  men  must  chain  and  tame 
With  bitter  pains,  till  sense  of  pain  is  killed. 
And  tortured  nerves  vex  torturer  no  more  — 
Yogis  and  Brahmacharis,  Bhikshus,  all 
A  gaunt  and  mournful  band,  dwelling  apart. 
Some  day  and  night  had  stood  with  lifted  arms. 
Till  —  drained  of  blood  and  withered  by  disease  — 
Their  slowly-wasting  joints  and  stiffened  limbs 
Jutted  from  sapless  shoulders  like  dead  forks 


Il6       •  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

From  forest  trunks.     Others  had  clenched  their  hands 

So  long  and  with  so  fierce  a  fortitude, 

The  claw-like  nails  grew  through  the  festered  palm. 

Some  walked  on  sandals  spiked  ;  some  with  sharp  flints 

Gashed  breast  and  brow  and  thigh,  scarred  these  with  fire, 

Threaded  their  flesh  with  jungle  thorns  and  spits, 

Besmeared  with  mud  and  ashes,  crouching  foul 

In  rags  of  dead  men  wTapped  about  their  loins. 

Certain  there  were  inhabited  the  spots 

Wliere  death-pyres  smouldered,  cowering  defiled 

With  corpses  for  their  company,  and  kites 

Screaming  around  them  o'er  the  funeral-spoils  : 

Certain  who  cried  five  hundred  times  a  day 

The  names  of  Shiva,  wound  with  darting  snakes 

About  their  sun-tanned  necks  and  hollow  flanks 

One  palsied  foot  drawn  up  against  the  ham. 

So  gathered  they,  a  grievous  company ; 

Crowns  blistered  by  the  blazing  heat,  eyes  bleared, 

Sinews  and  muscles  shrivelled,  visages 

Haggard  and  wan  as  slain  men's,  five  days  dead ; 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  II  J 

Here  crouched  one  in  the  dust  who  noon  by  noon 

Meted  a  thousand  grains  of  millet  out, 

Ate  it  with  famished  patience,  seed  by  seed. 

And  so  starved  on ;  there  one  who  bruised  his  pulse 

With  bitter  leaves  lest  palate  should  be  pleased ; 

And  next,  a  miserable  saint  self-maimed. 

Eyeless  and  tongueless,  sexless,  crippled,  deaf; 

The  body  by  the  mind  being  thus  stripped 

For  glory  of  much  suffering,  and  the  bliss 

Which  they  shall  win  —  say  holy  books  —  whose  woe 

Shames  gods  that  send  us  woe,  and  makes  men  gods  < 

Stronger  to  suffer  than  Hell  is  to  harm. 

Whom  sadly  eying  spake  our  Lord  to  one, 
Chief  of  the  woe-begones  :  "  Much-suffering  sir  ! 
These  many  moons  I  dwell  upon  the  hill  — 
Who  am  a  seeker  of  the  Truth  —  and  see 
My  brothers  here,  and  thee,  so  piteously 
Self-anguished ;  wherefore  add  ye  ills  to  life 
Which  is  so  evil  ?  " 


Il8  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Answer  made  the  sage  : 
"  'Tis  written  if  a  man  shall  mortify 
His  flesh,  till  pain  be  grown  the  life  he  lives 
And  death  voluptuous  rest,  such  woes  shall  purge 
Sin's  dross  away,  and  the  soul,  purified. 
Soar  firom  the  furnace  of  its  sorrow,  winged 
For  glorious  spheres  and  splendor  past  all  thought." 

"  Yon    cloud    which    floats    in   heaven,"   the  Prince 
replied, 
"  Wreathed  like  gold  cloth  around  your  Indra's  throne, 
Rose  thither  from  the  tempest-driven  sea ; 
But  it  must  fall  again  in  tearful  drops. 
Trickling  through  rough  and  painful  water-ways 
By  cleft  and  nullah  and  the  muddy  flood, 
To  Gunga  and  the  sea,  wherefrom  it  sprang. 
Know'st  thou,  my  brother,  if  it  be  not  thus. 
After  their  many  pains,  with  saints  in  bliss  ? 
Since  that  which  rises  falls,  and  that  which  buys 
Is  spent ;  and  if  ye  buy  heav'n  with  your  blood 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  IIQ 

In  hell's  hard  market,  when  the  bargain's  through 
The  toil  begins  again  ! " 

"  It  may  begin," 
The  hermit  moaned.     "  Alas  !  we  know  not  this, 
Nor  surely  anything  ;  yet  after  night 
Day  comes,  and  after  turmoil  peace,  and  we 
Hate  this  accursed  flesh  which  clogs  the  soul 
That  fain  would  rise  ;  so,  for  the  sake  of  soul, 
We  stake  brief  agonies  in  game  with  Gods 
To  gain  the  larger  joys." 

"  Yet  if  they  last 
A  myriad  years,"  he  said,  "  they  fade  at  length, 
Those  joys  ;  or  if  not,  is  there  then  some  life 
Below,  above,  beyond,  so  unlike  life 
It  will  not  change  ?    Speak  !  do  your  Gods  endure 
For  ever,  brothers?" 

"  Nay,"  the  Yogis  said, 
"  Only  great  Brahm  endures  :  the  Gods  but  hve." 


I20  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 


Then  spake  Lord  Buddha  :  "  Will  ye,  being  wise, 
As  ye  seem  holy  and  strong-hearted  ones, 
Throw  these  sore  dice,  which  are  your  groans  and  moans, 
For  gains  which  may  be  dreams,  and  must  have  end  ? 
Will  ye,  for  love  of  soul,  so  loathe  your  flesh, 
So  scourge  and  maim  it,  that  it  shall  not  serve 
To  bear  the  spirit  on,  searching  for  home. 
But  founder  on  the  track  before  nightfall. 
Like  willing  steed  o'er-spurred  ?    Will  ye,  sad  sirs, 
Dismantle  and  dismember  this  fair  house, 
Where  we  have  come  to  dwell  by  painful  pasts ; 
Whose  windows  give  us  light  —  the  little  light  — 
Whereby  we  gaze  abroad  to  know  if  dawn 
Will  break,  and  whither  winds  the  better  road  ?  " 

Then  cried  they,  "  We  have  chosen  this  for  road 
And  tread  it,  Rajaputra,  till  the  close  — 
Though  all  its  stones  were  fire  —  in  trust  of  death. 
Speak,  if  thou  know'st  a  way  more  excellent ; 
If  not,  peace  go  with  thee  ! " 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  121 

Onward  he  passed, 
Exceeding  sorrowful,  seeing  how  men 
Fear  so  to  die  they  are  afraid  to  fear. 
Lust  so  to  hve  they  dare  not  love  their  life, 
But  plague  it  with  fierce  penances,  behke 
To  please  the  Gods  who  grudge  pleasure  to  man ; 
Belike  to  balk  hell  by  self-kindled  hells  ; 
BeUke  in  holy  madness,  hoping  soul 
May  break  the  better  through  their  wasted  flesh. 
"Oh,  flowerets  of  the  field  !  "  Siddartha  said, 
"  Who  turn  your  tender  faces  to  the  sun  — 
Glad  of  the  light,  and  grateful  with  sweet  breath 
Of  fragrance  and  these  robes  of  reverence  donned 
Silver  and  gold  and  purple  —  none  of  ye 
Miss  perfect  living,  none  of  ye  despoil 
Your  happy  beauty.     Oh,  ye  palms  !  which  rise 
Eager  to  pierce  the  sky  and  drink  the  wind 
Blown  from  Malaya  and  the  cool  blue  seas. 
What  secret  know  ye  that  ye  grow  content, 
From  time  of  tender  shoot  to  time  of  fruit, 


122  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

Murmuring  such  sun-songs  from  your  feathered  crowns? 
Ye,  too,  who  dwell  so  merry  in  the  trees  — 
Quick-darting  parrots,  bee-birds,  bulbuls,  doves  — 
None  of  ye  hate  your  life,  none  of  ye  deem 
To  strain  to  better  by  foregoing  needs  ! 
But  man,  who  slays  ye  —  being  lord  —  is  wise, 
And  wisdom,  nursed  on  blood,  cometh  thus  forth 
In  self-tormentings  ! " 

While  the  Master  spake 
Blew  down  the  mount  the  dust  of  pattering  feet. 
White  goats  and  black  sheep  winding  slow  their  way. 
With  many  a  lingering  nibble  at  the  tufts. 
And  wanderings  from  the  path,  where  water  gleamed 
Or  wild  figs  hung.     But  always  as  they  strayed 
The  herdsman  cried,  or  slung  his  sling,  and  kept 
The  silly  crowd  still  moving  to  the  plain. 
A  ewe  with  couplets  in  the  flock  there  was. 
Some  hurt  had  lamed  one  lamb,  which  toiled  behind 
Bleeding,  while  in  the  front  its  fellow  skipped, 
And  the  vexed  dam  hither  and  thither  ran. 


BOOK   THE    FIFTH.  123 

Fearful  to  lose  this  little  one  or  that ; 
Which  when  our  Lord  did  mark,  full  tenderly 
He  took  the  limping  lamb  upon  his  neck, 
Saying,  "  Poor  woolly  mother,  be  at  peace  ! 
Whither  thou  goest  I  will  bear  thy  care  ; 
'Twere  all  as  good  to  ease  one  beast  of  grief 
As  sit  and  watch  the  sorrows  of  the  world 
In  yonder  caverns  with  the  priests  who  pray." 

"But,"  spake  he  to  the  herdsmen,  "wherefore,  friends  ! 
Drive  ye  the  flocks  adown  under  high  noon, 
Since  'tis  at  evening  that  men  fold  their  sheep?  " 

And  answer  gave  the  peasants  :  "  We  are  sent 
To  fetch  a  sacrifice  of  goats  five  score. 
And  five  score  sheep,  the  which  our  Lord  the  King 
Slayeth  this  night  in  worship  of  his  gods." 

Then  said  the  Master  :  "  I  will  also  go  ! " 
So  paced  he  patiently,  bearing  the  lamb 


124  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA, 

Beside  the  herdsmen  in  the  dust  and  sun, 
The  wistful  ewe  low-bleating  at  his  feet. 

Whom,  when  they  came  unto  the  river-side, 
A  woman  —  dove-eyed,  young,  with  tearful  face 
And  lifted  hands  —  saluted,  bending  low  : 
"  Lord  !  thou  art  he,"  she  said,  "  who  yesterday 
Had  pity  on  me  in  the  fig-grove  here. 
Where  I  live  lone  and  reared  my  child ;  but  he 
Straying  amid  the  blossoms  found  a  snake. 
Which  twined  about  his  wrist,  whilst  he  did  laugh 
And  tease  the  quick  forked  tongue  and  opened  mouth 
Of  that  cold  playmate.     But,  alas  !  ere  long 
He  turned  so  pale  and  still,  I  could  not  think 
Why  he  should  cease  to  play,  and  let  my  breast 
Fall  from  his  lips.     And  one  said,  '  He  is  sick 
Of  poison  ; '  and  another,  '  He  will  dfe.' 
But  I,  who  could  not  lose  my  precious  boy. 
Prayed  of  them  physic,  which  might  bring  the  light 
Back  to  his  eyes  ;  it  was  so  very  small 


BOOK   THE    FIFTH,  12$ 

That  kiss-mark  of  the  serpent,  and  I  think 

It  could  not  hate  him,  gracious  as  he  was, 

Nor  hurt  him  in  his  sport.     And  some  one  said, 

'  There  is  a  holy  man  upon  the  hill  — 

Lo  !  now  he  passeth  in  the  yellow  robe  — 

Ask  of  the  Rishi  if  there  be  a  cure 

For  that  which  ails  thy  son.'     Whereon  I  came 

Trembling  to  thee,  whose  brow  is  like  a  god's. 

And  wept  and  drew  the  face  cloth  from  my  babe. 

Praying  thee  tell  what  simples  might  be  good. 

And  thou,  great  sir  !  didst  spurn  me  not,  but  gaze 

With  gentle  eyes  and  touch  with  patient  hand  ; 

Then  draw  the  face-cloth  back,  saying  to  me, 

'  Yea  !  little  sister,  there  is  that  might  heal 

Thee  first,  and  him,  if  thou  couldst  fetch  the  thing ; 

For  they  who  seek  physicians  bring  to  them 

What  is  ordained.     Therefore,  I  pray  thee,  find 

Black  mustard-seed,  a  tola ;  only  mark 

Thou  take  it  not  from  any  hand  or  house 

Where  father,  mother,  child,  or  slave  hath  died  ; 


126  THE   LIGHT    OF   ASIA. 

It  shall  be  well  if  thou  canst  find  such  seed.' 
Thus  didst  thou  speak,  my  Lord  !  " 

The  Master  smiled 
Exceeding  tenderly.     "  Yea  !  I  spake  thus, 
Dear  Kisagotami !     But  didst  thou  find 
The  seed?" 

"  I  went.  Lord,  clasping  to  my  breast 
The  babe,  grown  colder,  asking  at  each  hut  — 
Here  in  the  jungle  and  towards  the  town  — 
*  I  pray  you,  give  me  mustard,  of  your  grace, 
A  tola  —  black ; '  and  each  who  had  it  gave. 
For  all  the  poor  are  piteous  to  the  poor ; 
But  when  I  asked,  '  In  my  friend's  household  here 
Hath  any  peradventure  ever  died  — 
Husband  or  wife,  or  child,  or  slave  ? '  they  said  : 
'  O  Sister  !  what  is  this  you  ask  ?  the  dead 
Are  very  many,  and  the  living  few  ! ' 
So  with  sad  thanks  I  gave  the  mustard  back. 
And  prayed  of  others ;  but  the  others  said, 
'  Here  is  the  seed,  but  we  have  lost  our  slave  !  * 


BOOK   THE    FIFTH.  12/ 

'  Here  is  the  seed,  but  our  good  man  is  dead  ! ' 
'  Here  is  some  seed,  but  he  that  sowed  it  died 
Between  the  rain-time  and  the  harvesting  ! ' 
Ah,  sir  !  I  could  not  find  a  single  house 
Where  there  was  mustard-seed  and  none  had  died  ! 
Therefore  I  left  my  child  —  who  would  not  suck 
Nor  smile  —  beneath  the  wild-vines  by  the  stream, 
To  seek  thy  face  and  kiss  thy  feet,  and  pray 
Where  I  might  find  this  seed  and  find  no  death, 
If  now,  indeed,  my  baby  be  not  dead, 
As  I  do  fear,  and  as  they  said  to  me." 

"  My  sister  !  thou  hast  found,"  the  Master  said, 
**  Searching  for  what  none  finds  —  that  bitter  balm 
I  had  to  give  thee.     He  thou  lovedst  slept 
Dead  on  thy  bosom  yesterday  :  to-day 
Thou  know'st  the  whole  wide  world  weeps  with  thy  woe  : 
The  grief  which  all  hearts  share  grows  less  for  one. 
Lo  !  I  would  pour  my  blood  if  it  could  stay 
Thy  tears  and  win  the  secret  of  that  curse 


128  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Which  makes  sweet  love  our  anguish,  and  which  drives 
O'er  flowers  and  pastures  to  the  sacrifice  — 
As  these  dumb  beasts  are  driven  —  men  their  lords. 
I  seek  that  secret :  bury  thou  thy  child  ! " 

So  entered  they  the  city  side  by  side, 
The  herdsmen  and  the  Prince,  what  time  the  sun 
Gilded  slow  Sona's  distant  stream,  and  threw 
Long  shadows  down  the  street  and  through  the  gate 
Where  the  King's  men  kept  watch.     But  when  these  saw 
Our  Lord  bearing  the  lamb,  the  guards  stood  back, 
The  market-people  drew  their  wains  aside, 
In  the  bazaar  buyers  and  sellers  stayed 
The  war  of  tongues  to  gaze  on  that  mild  face ; 
The  smith,  with  lifted  hammer  in  his  hand. 
Forgot  to  strike  ;  the  weaver  left  his  web. 
The  scribe  his  scroll,  the  money-changer  lost 
His  count  of  cowries  ;  from  the  unwatched  rice 
Shiva's  white  bull  fed  free  ;  the  wasted  milk 
Ran  o'er  the  lota  while  the  milkers  watched 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  1 29 

The  passage  of  our  Lord  moving  so  meek, 

With  yet  so  beautiful  a  majesty. 

But  most  the  women  gathering  ija  the  doors 

Asked,  "  Who  is  this  that  brings  the  sacrifice 

So  graceful  and  peace-giving  as  he  goes  ? 

What  is  his  caste  ?  whence  hath  he  eyes  so  sweet  ? 

Can  he  be  Sakra  or  the  Devaraj  ?  " 

And  others  said,  "  It  is  the  holy  man 

Who  dwelleth  with  the  Rishis  on  the  hill." 

But  the  Lord  paced,  in  meditation  lost, 

Thinking,  "  Alas  !  for  all  my  sheep  which  have 

No  shepherd  ;  wandering  in  the  night  with  none 

To  guide  them  ;  bleating  blindly  towards  the  knife 

Of  Death,  as  these  dumb  beasts  which  arc  their  kin." 

Then  some  one  told  the  King,  "  There  cometh  here 
A  holy  hermit,  bringing  down  the  flock 
Which  thou  didst  bid  to  crown  the  sacrifice." 

The  King  stood  in  his  hall  of  offering, 
On  either  hand  the  white-robed  Brahmans  ranged 

9 


130  THE    LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

Muttered  their  mantras,  feeding  still  the  fire 

Which  roared  upon  the  midmost  altar.     There 

From  scented  woods  flickered  bright  tongues  of  flame, 

Hissing  and  curling  as  they  licked  the  gifts 

Of  ghee  and  spices  and  the  Soma  juice, 

The  joy  of  Indra.     Round  about  the  pile 

A  slow,  thick,  scarlet  streamlet  smoked  and  ran, 

Sucked  by  the  sand,  but  ever  rolling  down. 

The  blood  of  bleating  victims.     One  such  lay, 

A  spotted  goat,  long-horned,  its  head  bound  back 

With  munja  grass ;  at  its  stretched  throat  the  knife 

Pressed  by  a  priest,  who  murmured,  "  This,  dread  gods. 

Of  many  yajnas  cometh  as  the  crown 

From  Bimbasara  :  take  ye  joy  to  see 

The  spirted  blood,  and  pleasure  in  the  scent 

Of  rich  flesh  roasting  'mid  the  fragrant  flames  ; 

Let  the  King's  sins  be  laid  upon  this  goat. 

And  let  the  fire  consume  them  burning  it. 

For  now  I  strike." 

But  Buddha  softly  said, 


BOOK   THE    FIFTH.  I3I 

"  Let    him    not    strike,    great    King ! "    and    therewith 

loosed 
The  victim's  bonds,  none  staying  him,  so  great 
His  presence  was.     Then,  craving  leave,  he  spake 
Of  life,  which  all  can  take  but  none  can  give, 
Life,  which  all  creatures  love  and  strive  to  keep. 
Wonderful,  dear  and  pleasant  unto  each, 
Even  to  the  meanest ;  yea,  a  boon  to  all 
Where  pity  is,  for  pity  makes  the  world 
Soft  to  the  weak  and  noble  for  the  strong. 
Unto  the  dumb  lips  of  his  flock  he  lent 
Sad  pleading  words,  showing  how  man,  who  prays 
For  mercy  to  the  gods,  is  merciless, 
Being  as  god  to  those  ;  albeit  all  life 
Is  linked  and  kin,  and  what  we  slay  have  given 
Meek  tribute  of  the  milk  and  wool,  and  set 
Fast  trust  upon  the  hands  which  murder  them. 
Also  he  spake  of  what  the  holy  books 
Do  surely  teach,  how  that  at  death  some  sink 
To  bird  and  beast,  and  these  rise  up  to  man 


132  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

In  wanderings  of  the  spark  which  grows  purged  flame. 

So  were  the  sacrifice  new  sin,  if  so 

The  fated  passage  of  a  soul  be  stayed. 

Nor,  spake  he,  shall  one  wash  his  spirit  clean 

By  blood ;  nor  gladden  gods,  being  good,  with  blood ; 

Nor  bribe  them,  being  evil ;  nay,  nor  lay 

Upon  the  brow  of  innocent  bound  beasts 

One  hair's  weight  of  that  answer  all  must  give 

For  all  things  done  amiss  or  wrongfully, 

Alone,  each  for  himself,  reckoning  with  that 

The  fixed  arithmic  of  the  universe. 

Which  meteth  good  for  good  and  ill  for  ill. 

Measure  for  measure,  unto  deeds,  words,  thoughts  ; 

Watchful,  aware,  implacable,  unmoved ; 

Making  all  futures  fruits  of  all  the  pasts. 

Thus  spake  he,  breathing  words  so  piteous 

With  such  high  lordliness  of  ruth  and  right, 

The  priests  drew  back  their  garments  o'er  the  hands 

Crimsoned  with  slaughter,  and  the  King  came  near, 

Standing  with  clasped  palms  reverencing  Buddh  ; 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  1 33 

While  still  our  Lord  went  on^  teaching  how  fair 

This  earth  were  if  all  living  things  be  linked    . 

In  friendliness  and  common  use  of  foods, 

Bloodless  and  pure  ;  the  golden  grain,  bright  fruits, 

Sweet  herbs  which  grow  for  all,  the  waters  wan, 

Sufficient  drinks  and  meats.     Which  when  these  heard, 

The  might  of  gentleness  so  conquered  them. 

The  priests  themselves  scattered  their  altar- flames 

And  flung  away  the  steel  of  sacrifice  ; 

And  through  the  land  next  day  passed  a  decree 

Proclaimed  by  criers,  and  in  this  wise  graved 

On  rock  and  column  :  "  Thus  the  King's  will  is  :  — 

There  hath  been  slaughter  for  the  sacrifice 

And  slaying  for  the  meat,  but  henceforth  none 

Shall  spill  the  blood  of  life  nor  taste  of  flesh. 

Seeing  that  knowledge  grows,  and  life  is  one, 

And  mercy  cometh  to  the  mcrcifiil." 

So  ran  the  edict,  and  from  those  days  forth 

Sweet  peace  hath  spread  between  all  living  kind, 

Man  and  the  beasts  which  serve  him,  and  the  birds. 


134  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

On  all  those  banks  of  Gunga  where  our  Lord 
Taught  with  his  saintly  pity  and  soft  speech. 

For  aye  so  piteous  was  the  Master's  heart 
To  all  that  breathe  this  breath  of  fleeting  life, 
Yoked  in  one  fellowship  of  joys  and  pains, 
That  it  is  written  in  the  holy  books 
How,  in  an  ancient  age  —  when  Buddha  wore 
A  Brahman's  form,  dwelling  upon  the  rock 
Named  Munda,  by  the  village  of  Dalidd  — 
Drought  withered  all  the  land  :  the  young  rice  died 
Ere  it  could  hide  a  quail ;  in  forest  glades 
A  fierce  sun  sucked  the  pools ;  grasses  and  herbs 
Sickened,  and  all  the  woodland  creatures  fled 
Scattering  for  sustenance.     At  such  a  time, 
Between  the  hot  walls  of  a  nullah,  stretched 
On  naked  stones,  our  Lord  spied,  as  he  passed, 
A  starving  tigress.     Hunger  in  her  orbs 
Glared   with    green    flame ;    her    dry   tongue    lolled    a 
span 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  1 35 

Beyond  the  gasping  jaws  and  shrivelled  jowl ; 

Her  painted  hide  hung  wrinkled  on  her  ribs, 

As  when  between  the  rafters  sinks  a  thatch 

Rotten  with  rains  ;  and  at  the  poor  lean  dugs 

Two  cubs,  whining  with  famine,  tugged  and  sucked, 

Mumbling  those  milkless  teats  which  rendered  nought. 

While  she,  their  gaunt  dam,  licked  full  motherly 

The  clamorous  twins,  yielding  her  flank  to  them 

\\'ith  moaning  throat,  and  love  stronger  than  want, 

Softening  the  first  of  that  wild  cry  wherewith 

She  laid  her  famished  muzzle  to  the  sand 

And  roared  a  savage  thunder-peal  of  woe. 

Seeing  which  bitter  strait,  and  heeding  nought 

Save  the  immense  compassion  of  a  Buddh, 

Our  Lord  bethought,  "  There  is  no  other  way 

To  help  this  murderess  of  the  woods  but  one. 

By  sunset  these  will  die,  having  no  meat : 

There  is  no  living  heart  will  pity  her. 

Bloody  with  ravin,  lean  for  lack  of  blood. 

Lo  !  if  I  feed  her,  who  sliall  lose  but  I, 


136  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

And  how  can  love  lose  doing  of  its  kind 

Even  to  the  uttermost?  "     So  saying,  Buddh 

Silently  laid  aside  sandals  and  staff, 

His  sacred  thread,  turban,  and  cloth,  and  came 

Forth  from  behind  the  milk-bush  on  the  sand, 

Saying,  "  Ho  !  mother,  here  is  meat  for  thee  !  " 

Whereat  the  perishing  beast  yelped  hoarse  and 

shrill, 
Sprang  from  her  cubs,  and,  hurling  to  the  earth 
That  willing  victim,  had  her  feast  of  him 
With  all  the  crooked  daggers  of  her  claws 
Rending  his  flesh,  and  all  her  yellow  fangs 
Bathed  in  his  blood  :  the  great  cat's  burning  breath 
Mixed  with  the  last  sigh  of  such  fearless  love. 

Thus  large  the  Master's  heart  was  long  ago, 
Not  only  now,  wlicn  with  his  gracious  ruth 
He  bade  cease  cruel  worship  of  the  Gods. 
And  much  King  Bimbasara  prayed  our  Lord  — 

Learning  his  royal  birth  and  holy  search  — 


ROOK    THE    FIFTH.  1 37 

To  tarry  in  that  city,  saying  oft, 
"  Thy  princely  state  may  not  abide  such  fasts  ; 
Thy  hands  were  made  for  sceptres,  not  for  alms. 
Sojourn  with  me,  who  have  no  son  to  rule, 
And  teach  my  kingdom  wisdom,  till  I  die, 
Lodged  in  my  palace  with  a  beauteous  bride." 
But  ever  spake  Siddartha,  of  set  mind, 
"  These  things  I  had,  most  noble  King,  and  left. 
Seeking  the  Truth  ;  which  still  I  seek,  and  shall ; 
Not  to  be  stayed  though  Sakra's  palace  ope'd 
Its  doors  of  pearl  and  Devis  wooed  me  in. 
I  go  to  build  the  Kingdom  of  the  Law, 
Journeying  to  Gaya  and  the  forest  shades, 
Where,  as  I  think,  the  light  will  come  to  me  ; 
For  nowise  here  among  the  Rishis  comes 
That  light,  nor  from  the  Shastcrs,  nor  from  fasts 
Borne  till  the  body  faints,  starved  by  the  soul. 
Yet  there  is  light  to  reach  and  initli  to  win  ; 
And  surely,  O  true  Friend,  if  I  attain 
I  will  return  and  (juit  thy  love." 


138  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Thereat 
Thrice  round  the  Prince  King  Bimbasara  paced, 
Reverently  bending  to  the  Master's  feet, 
And  bade  him  speed.     So  passed  our  Lord  away 
Towards  Uravilva,  not  yet  comforted, 
And  wan  of  face,  and  weak  with  six  years'  quest. 
But  they  upon  the  hill  and  in  the  grove  — 
Alara,  Udra,  and  the  ascetics  five  — 
Had  stayed  him,  saying  all  was  written  clear 
In  holy  Shasters,  and  that  none  might  win 
Higher  than  Sruti  and  than  Smriti  —  nay. 
Not  the  chief  saints  !  —  for  how  should  mortal  man 
Be  wiser  than  the  Jnana-Kand,  which  tells 
How  Brahm  is  bodiless  and  actionless. 
Passionless,  calm,  unqualified,  unchanged. 
Pure   life,   pure   thought,   pure  joy?      Or  how   should 

man 
Be  better  than  the  Karmma-Kand,  which  shows 
How  he  may  strip  passion  and  action  off, 
Break  from  the  bond  of  self,  and  so,  unsphered, 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH.  139 

Be  God,  and  melt  into  the  vast  divine, 
Flying  from  false  to  true,  from  wars  of  sense 
To  peace  eternal,  where  the  silence  lives  ? 

But  the  Prince  heard  them,  not  yet  comforted. 


Booft  tfte  Stxti^* 


Thou  who  wouldst  see  where  dawned  the  light  at  last, 

North-westwards  from  the  "  Thousand  Gardens"  go 

By  Gunga's  valley  till  thy  steps  be  set 

On  the  green  hills  where  those  twin  streamlets  spring 

Nilajan  and  Mohana  ;  follow  them, 

Winding  beneath  broad-leaved  mahua-trees, 

'Mid  thickets  of  the  sansar  and  the  bir. 

Till  on  the  plain  the  shining  sisters  meet 

In  Phalgu's  bed,  flowing  by  rocky  banks 

To  Gaya  and  the  red  Barabar  hills. 

Hard  by  that  river  spreads  a  thorny  waste, 

Uruwclaya  named  in  ancient  days, 

With  sandhills  broken ;  on  its  verge  a  wood 

Waves  sea-green  plumes  and  tassels  'thwart  the  sky. 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  I4I 

With  undergrowth  wherethrough  a  still  flood  steals, 
Dappled  with  lotus-blossoms,  blue  and  white, 
And  peopled  with  quick  fish  and  tortoises. 
Near  it  the  village  of  Senani  reared 
Its  roofs  of  grass,  nestled  amid  the  palms. 
Peaceful  with  simple  folk  and  pastoral  toils. 

There  in  the  sylvan  solitudes  once  more 
Lord  Buddha  lived,  musing  the  woes  of  men, 
The  ways  of  fate,  the  doctrines  of  the  books. 
The  lessons  of  the  creatures  of  the  brake, 
The  secrets  of  the  silence  whence  all  come. 
The  secrets  of  the  gloom  whereto  all  go. 
The  life  which  lies  between,  like  that  arch  flung 
From  cloud  to  cloud  across  the  sky,  which  hath 
Mists  for  its  masonry  and  vapory  piers, 
Melting  to  void  again  which  was  so  fair 
With  sapphire  hues,  garnet,  and  chrysoprase. 
Moon  after  moon  our  Lord  sate  in  the  wood. 
So  meditating  these  that  he  forgot 


142  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Ofttimes  the  hour  of  food,  rising  from  thoughts 
Prolonged  beyond  the  sunrise  and  the  noon 
To  see  his  bowl  unfilled,  and  eat  perforce 
Of  wild  fruit  fallen  from  the  boughs  o'erhead, 
Shaken  to  earth  by  chattering  ape  or  plucked 
By  purple  parokeet.     Therefore  his  grace 
Faded ;  his  body,  worn  by  stress  of  soul, 
Lost  day  by  day  the  marks,  thirty  and  two, 
Which  testify  the  Buddha.     Scarce  that  leaf, 
Fluttering  so  dry  and  withered  to  his  feet 
From  off  the  sal-branch,  bore  less  likeliness 
Of  spring's  soft  greenery  than  he  of  him 
Who  was  the  princely  flower  of  all  his  land. 

And  once  at  such  a  time  the  o'erwrought  Prince 
Fell  to  the  earth  in  deadly  swoon,  all  spent. 
Even  as  one  slain,  who  hath  no  longer  breath 
Nor  any  stir  of  blood ;  so  wan  he  was. 
So  motionless.     But  there  came  by  that  way 
A  shepherd-boy,  who  saw  Siddartha  lie 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  I43 

With  lids  fast-closed,  and  lines  of  nameless  pain 

Fixed  on  his  lips  —  the  fiery  noonday  sun 

Beating  upon  his  head  —  who,  plucking  boughs 

From  wild  rose-apple  trees,  knitted  them  thick 

Into  a  bower  to  shade  the  sacred  face. 

Also  he  poured  upon  the  Master's  lips 

Drops  of  warm  milk,  pressed  from  his  she-goat's  bag, 

Lest,  being  of  low  caste,  he  do  wrong  to  one 

So  high  and  holy  seeming.     But  the  books 

Tell  how  the  jambu-branches,  planted  thus. 

Shot  with  quick  life  in  wealth  of  leaf  and  flower 

And  glowing  fruitage  interlaced  and  close, 

So  that  the  bower  grew  like  a  tent  of  silk 

Pitched  for  a  king  at  hunting,  decked  with  studs 

Of  silver-work  and  bosses  of  red  gold. 

And  the  boy  worshipped,  deeming  him  some  God ; 

But  our  Lord  gaining  breath,  arose  and  asked 

Milk  in  the  shepherd's  lota.     "  Ah,  my  Lord, 

I  cannot  give  thee,"  quoth  the  lad ;  "  thou  seest 

I  am  a  Sudra,  and  my  touch  defiles  ! " 


144  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Then  the  World-honored  spake  :  "  Pity  and  need 
Make  all  flesh  kin.     There  is  no  caste  in  blood, 
Which  runneth  of  one  hue,  nor  caste  in  tears, 
Which  trickle  salt  with  all ;  neither  comes  man 
To  birth  with  tilka-mark  stamped  on  the  brow, 
Nor  sacred  thread  on  neck.     Who  doth  right  deeds 
Is  twice-born,  and  who  doeth  ill  deeds  vile. 
Give  me  to  drink,  my  brother ;  when  I  come 
Unto  ray  quest  it  shall  be  good  for  thee." 
Thereat  the  peasant's  heart  was  glad,  and  gave. 

'And  on  another  day  there  passed  that  road 
A  band  of  tinselled  girls,  the  nautch-dancers 
Of  Indra's  temple  in  the  town,  with  those 
Who  made  their  music  —  one  that  beat  a  drum 
Set  round  with  peacock-feathers,  one  that  blew 
The  piping  bdnsuli,  and  one  that  twitched 
A  three-string  sitar.     Lightly  tripped  they  down 
From  ledge  to  ledge  and  through  the  chequered  paths 
To  some  gay  festival,  the  silver  bells 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH,  145 

Chiming  soft  peals  about  the  small  brown  feet, 
Armlets  and  wrist-rings  tattling  answer  shrill ; 
While  he  that  bore  the  sitar  thrummed  and  twanged 
His  threads  of  brass,  and  she  beside  him  sang  — 

"  Fair  goes  the  dancing  when  the  sitar' s  tuned; 
Tune  us  the  sitar  neither  low  nor  high, 
And  we  will  dance  away  the  hearts  of  men.         ^ 

The  string  overstretched  breaks,  and  the  music  flies  ; 
The  string  o'erslack  is  dumb,  and  music  dies  ; 
Tune  us  the  sitar  neither  low  nor  high." 

So  sang  the  nautch-girl  to  the  pipe  and  wires, 
Fluttering  like  some  vain,  painted  butterfly 
From  glade  to  glade  along  the  forest  path. 
Nor  dreamed  her  light  words  echoed  on  the  ear 
Of  him,  that  holy  man,  wlio  sate  so  rapt 
Under  the  fig-tree  by  the  path.     But  Buddh 
Lifted  his  great  brow  as  the  wantons  passed. 
And  spake  :  "  The  foolish  ofitimes  teach  the  wise  ; 


10 


146  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

I  strain  too  much  this  string  of  life,  belike, 
Meaning  to  make  such  music  as  shall  save. 
Mine  eyes  are  dim  now  that  they  see  the  truth, 
My  strength  is  waned  now  that  my  need  is  most ; 
Would  that  I  had  such  help  as  man  must  have, 
For  I  shall  die,  whose  life  was  all  men's  hope." 

Now,  by  that  river  dwelt  a  landholder 
Pious  and  rich,  master  of  many  herds, 
A  goodly  chief,  the  friend  of  all  the  poor ; 
And  from  his  house  the  village  drew  its  name  — 
"  Sendni."     Pleasant  and  in  peace  he  lived, 
Having  for  wife  Sujata,  loveliest 
Of  all  the  dark-eyed  daughters  of  the  plain ; 
Gentle  and  true,  simple  and  kind  was  she. 
Noble  of  mien,  with  gracious  speech  to  all 
And  gladsome  looks  —  a  pearl  of  womanhood  — 
Passing  calm  years  of  household  happiness 
Beside  her  lord  in  that  still  Indian  home. 
Save  that  no  male  child  blessed  their  wedded  love. 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  I47 

Wherefore  with  many  prayers  she  had  besought 

Lukshmi ;  and  many  nights  at  full-moon  gone 

Round  the  great  Lingam,  nine  times  nine,  with  gifts 

Of  rice  and  jasmine  wreaths  and  sandal  oil, 

Praying  a  boy ;  also  Sujata  vowed  — 

If  this  should  be  —  an  offering  of  food 

Unto  the  Wood-God,  plenteous,  delicate, 

Set  in  a  bowl  of  gold  under  his  tree. 

Such  as  the  lips  of  Devs  may  taste  and  take. 

And  this  had  been  :  for  there  was  bom  to  her 

A  beauteous  boy,  now  three  months  old,  who  lay 

Between  Sujata's  breasts,  while  she  did  pace 

With  grateful  foot-steps  to  the  Wood-God's  shrine. 

One  arm  clasping  her  crimson  sari  close 

To  \vrap  the  babe,  that  jewel  of  her  joys, 

The  other  lifted  high  in  comely  curve 

To  steady  on  her  head  the  bowl  and  dish 

Which  held  the  dainty  victuals  for  the  God. 

But  Radha,  sent  before  to  sweep  the  ground 


148  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

And  tie  the  scarlet  threads  around  the  tree, 
Came  eager,  crying,  "  Ah,  dear  Mistress  !  look  ! 
There  is  the  Wood-God  sitting  in  his  place, 
Revealed,  with  folded  hands  upon  his  knees. 
See  how  the  light  shines  round  about  his  brow  ! 
How  mild  and  great  he  seems,  with  heavenly  eyes  ! 
Good  fortune  is  it  thus  to  meet  the  gods." 

So,  —  thinking  him  divine,  —  Sujata  drew 
Tremblingly  nigh,  and  kissed  the  earth  and  said, 
With  sweet  face  bent,  "  Would  that  the  Holy  One 
Inhabiting  this  grove.  Giver  of  good. 
Merciful  unto  me  his  handmaiden. 
Vouchsafing  now  his  presence,  might  accept 
These  our  poor  gifts  of  snowy  curds,  fresh-made, 
With  milk  as  white  as  new-carved  ivory  ! "  , 

Therewith  into  the  golden  bowl  she  poured 
The  curds  and  milk,  and  on  the  hands  of  Buddh 
Dropped  attar  from  a  crystal  flask  -^  distilled 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  149 

Out  of  the  hearts  of  roses  :  and  he  ate, 
Speaking  no  word,  while  the  glad  mother  stood 
In  reverence  apart.     But  of  that  meal 
So  wondrous  was  the  virtue  that  our  Lord 
Felt  strength  and  life  return  as  though  the  nights 
Of  watching  and  the  days  of  fast  had  passed 
In  dream,  as  though  the  spirit  with  the  flesh 
Shared  that  fine  meat  and  plumed  its  wings  anew, 
Like  some  delighted  bird  at  sudden  streams 
Weary  with  flight  o'er  endless  wastes  of  sand, 
Which  laves  the  desert  dust  from  neck  and  crest. 
And  more  Sujata  worshipped,  seeing  our  Lord 
Grow  fairer  and  his  countenance  more  bright : 
"Art  thou  indeed  the  God?  "  she  lowly  asked, 
"  And  hath  my  gift  found  favor?  " 

But  Buddh  said, 

"  Wliat  is  it  thou  dost  bring  me?  " 

"  Holy  one  !  " 
Answered  Sujata,  "  from  our  droves  I  took 


150  THE   LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Milk  of  a  hundred  mothers,  newly-calved, 
And  with  that  milk  I  fed  fifty  white  cows, 
And  with  their  milk  twenty-and-five,  and  then 
With  theirs  twelve  more,  and  yet  again  with  theirs 
The  six  noblest  and  best  of  all  our  herds. 
That  yield  I  boiled  with  sandal  and  fine  spice 
In  silver  lotas,  adding  rice,  well  grown 
From  chosen  seed,  set  in  new-broken  ground, 
So  picked  that  every  grain  was  like  a  pearl. 
This  did  I  of  true  heart,  because  I  vowed 
Under  thy  tree,  if  I  should  bear  a  boy 
I  would  make  offering  for  my  joy,  and  now 
I  have  my  son  and  all  my  life  is  bliss  ! " 

Softly  our  Lord  drew  down  the  crimson  fold, 
And,  laying  on  the  little  head  those  hands 
Which  help  the  worlds,  he  said,  "  Long  be  thy  bliss  ! 
And  lightly  fall  on  him  the  load  of  life  ! 
For  thou  hast  holpen  me  who  am  no  God, 
But  one,  thy  Brother ;  heretofore  a  Prince 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  15  I 

And  now  a  wanderer,  seeking  night  and  day 

These  six  hard  years  that  Hght  which  somewhere  shines 

To  lighten  all  men's  darkness,  if  they  knew  ! 

And  I  shall  find  the  light ;  yea,  now  it  dawned 

Glorious  and  helpful,  when  my  weak  flesh  failed 

Which  this  pure  food,  fair  Sister,  hath  restored, 

Drawn  manifold  through  lives  to  quicken  life 

As  life  itself  passes  by  many  births 

To  happier  heights  and  purging  off  of  sins. 

Yet  dost  thou  truly  find  it  sweet  enough 

Only  to  live  ?     Can  life  and  love  sufifice  ?  " 

Answered  Sujata,  "  Worshipful !  my  heart 
Is  little,  and  a  little  rain  will  fill 
The  lily's  cup  which  hardly  moists  the  field. 
It  is  enough  for  me  to  feel  life's  sun 
Shine  in  my  Lord's  grace  and  my  baby's  smile, 
Making  the  loving  summer  of  our  home. 
Pleasant  my  days  pass  filled  with  household  cares 
From  sunrise  when  I  wake  to  praise  the  gods, 


152  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

And  give  forth  grain,  and  trim  the  tulsi-plant, 

And  set  my  handmaids  to  their  tasks,  till  noon, 

When  my  Lord  lays  his  head  upon  my  lap 

Lulled  by  soft  songs  and  wavings  of  the  fan ; 

And  so  to  supper-time  at  quiet  eve, 

When  by  his  side  I  stand  and  serve  the  cakes. 

Then  the  stars  light  their  silver  lamps  for  sleep, 

After  the  temple  and  the  talk  with  friends. 

How  should  I  not  be  happy,  blest  so  much. 

And  bearing  him  this  boy  whose  tiny  hand 

Shall  lead  his  soul  to  Swerga,  if  it  need  ? 

For  holy  books  teach  when  a  man  shall  plant 

Trees  for  the  travellers'  shade,  and  dig  a  well 

For  the  folks'  comfort,  and  beget  a  son, 

It  shall  be  good  for  such  after  their  death  ; 

And  what  the  books  say  that  I  humbly  take. 

Being  not  wiser  than  those  great  of  old 

Who  spake  with  gods,  and  knew  the  hymns  and  charms. 

And  all  the  ways  of  virtue  and  of  peace. 

Also  I  think  that  good  must  come  of  good 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  I53 

And  ill  of  evil  —  surely  —  unto  all  — 
In  every  place  and  time  —  seeing  sweet  fruit 
Groweth  from  wholesome  roots,  and  bitter  things 
From  poison-stocks ;  yea,  seeing,  too,  how  spite 
Breeds  hate,  and  kindness  friends,  and  patience  peace 
Even  while  we  live  ;  and  when  'tis  willed  we  die 
Shall  there  not  be  as  good  a  '  Then  '  as  '  Now '  ? 
Haply  much  better  !  since  one  grain  of  rice  *■ 
Shoots  a  green  feather  gemmed  with  fifty  pearls, 
And  all  the  starry  champak's  white  and  gold 
Lurks  in  those  little,  naked,  grey  spring-buds. 
Ah,  Sir  !  I  know  there  might  be  woes  to  bear 
Would  lay  fond  Patience  with  her  face  in  dust ; 
If  this  my  babe  pass  first  I  think  my  heart 
Would  break  —  almost  I  hope  my  heart  would  break  ! 
That  I  might  clasp  him  dead  and  wait  my  Lord  — 
In  whatsoever  workl  holds  fiilhnil  wives  — 
Duteous,  attending  till  his  hour  should  come. 
But  if  Death  called  Senani,  I  should  mount 
The  pile  and  lay  that  dear  head  in  my  lap. 


154  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

My  daily  way,  rejoicing  when  the  torch 

Lit  the  quick  flame  and  rolled  the  choking  smoke. 

For  it  IS  written  if  an  Indian  wife 

Die  so,  her  love  shall  give  her  husband's  soul 

For  every  hair  upon  her  head  a  crore 

Of  years  in  Swerga.     Therefore  fear  I  not. 

And  therefore,  Holy  Sir  !  my  life  is  glad, 

Nowise  forgetting  yet  those  other  lives 

Painful  and  poor,  wicked  and  miserable, 

Whereon  the  gods  grant  pity  !  but  for  me, 

What  good  I  see  humbly  I  seek  to  do, 

And  live  obedient  to  the  law,  in  trust 

That  what  will  come,  and  must  come,  shall  come  well." 

Then  spake  our  Lord,  "  Thou  teachest  them  who  teach. 
Wiser  than  wisdom  in  thy  simple  lore. 
Be  thou  content  to  know  not,  knowing  thus 
Thy  way  of  right  and  duty  :  grow,  thou  flower  ! 
With  thy  sweet  kind  in  peaceful  shade  —  the  light 
Of  Truth's  high  noon  is  not  for  tender  leaves 


BOOK   THE    SIXTH.  155 

Which  must  spread  broad  in  other  suns  and  lift 

In  later  lives  a  crowned  head  to  the  sky. 

Thou  who  hast  worshipped  me,  I  worship  thee  ! 

Excellent  heart !  learned  unknowingly. 

As  the  dove  is  which  flieth  home  by  love. 

In  thee  is  seen  why  there  is  hope  for  man 

And  where  we  hold  the  wheel  of  Ufe  at  will. 

Peace  go  with  thee,  and  comfort  all  thy  days  ! 

As  thou  accomplishest,  may  I  achieve  ! 

He  whom  thou  thoughtest  God  bids  thee  wish  this." 

"  May'st  thou  achieve,"  she  said,  with  earnest  eyes 
Bent  on  her  babe,  who  reached  its  tender  hands 
To  Buddh  —  knowing,  belike,  as  children  know, 
More  than  we  deem,  and  reverencing  our  Lord ; 
But  he  arose  —  made  strong  with  that  pure  meat  — 
And  bent  his  footsteps  where  a  great  Tree  grew, 
The  Bodhi-tree  (thenceforward  in  all  years 
Never  to  fade,  and  ever  to  be  kept 
In  homage  of  the  world),  beneath  whose  leaves 


156  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

It  was 'Ordained  that  Truth  should  come  to  Buddh  : 
Which  now  the  Master  knew ;  wherefore  he  went 
With  measured  pace,  steadfast,  majestical. 
Unto  the  Tree  of  Wisdom.     Oh,  ye  Worlds  ! 
Rejoice  !  our  Lord  wended  unto  the  Tree  ! 

Whom  —  as  he  passed  into  its  ample  shade, 
Cloistered  with  columned  dropping  stems,  and  roofed 
With  vaults  of  glistening  green  —  the  conscious  earth 
Worshipped  with  waving  grass  and  sudden  flush 
Of  flowers  about  his  feet.     The  forest-boughs 
Bent  down  to  shade  him  ;  from  the  river  sighed 
Cool  wafts  of  wind  laden  with  lotus-scents 
Breathed  by  the  water-gods.     Large  wondering  eyes 
Of  woodland  creatures  —  panther,  boar,  and  deer  — 
At  peace  that  eve,  gazed  on  his  face  benign 
From  cave  and  thicket.     From  its  cold  cleft  wound 
The  mottled  deadly  snake,  dancing  its  hood 
Li  honor  of  our  Lord  ;  bright  butterflies 
Fluttered  their  vans,  azure  and  green  and  gold, 


BOOK   THE    SIXTH.  15/ 

To  be  his  fan-bearers ;  the  fierce  kite  dropped 
Its  prey  and  screamed  ;  the  striped  palm-squirrel  raced 
From  stem  to  stem  to  see  ;  the  weaver-bird 
Chirped  from  her  swinging  nest ;  the  lizard  ran  ; 
The  koil  sang  her  hymn  ;  the  doves  flocked  round  ; 
Even  the  creeping  things  were  'ware  and  glad. 
Voices  of  earth  and  air  joined  in  one  song, 
Which  unto  ears  that  hear  said,  "  Lord  and  Friend  ! 
Lover  and  Saviour  !     Thou  who  hast  subdued 
Angers  and  prides,  desires  and  fears  and  doubts, 
Thou  that  for  each  and  all  hast  given  thyself, 
Pass  to  the  Tree  !    The  sad  world  blesseth  thee 
Who  art  the  Buddh  that  shall  assuage  her  woes. 
Pass,  Hailed  and  Honored  !  strive  thy  last  for  us. 
King  and  high  Conqueror  !  thine  hour  is  come ; 
This  is  the  Night  the  ages  waited  for  ! '.' 

Then  fell  the  night  even  as  our  Master  sate 
Under  that  Tree.     But  he  who  is  the  Prince 
Of  Darkness,  Mara  —  knowing  this  was  Buddh 


158  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Who  should  deliver  men,  and  now  the  hour 

When  he  should  find  the  Truth  and  save  the  worlds  — 

Gave  unto  all  his  evil  powers  command. 

Wherefore  there  trooped  fi-om  every  deepest  pit 

The  fiends  who  war  with  Wisdom  and  the  Light, 

Arati,  Trishna,  Raga,  and  their  crew 

Of  passions,  horrors,  ignorances,  lusts, 

The  brood  of  gloom  and  dread ;  all  hating  Buddh, 

Seeking  to  shake  his  mind  ;  nor  knoweth  one, 

Not  even  the  wisest,  how  those  fiends  of  Hell 

Battled  that  night  to  keep  the  Truth  from  Buddh  : 

Sometimes  with  terrors  of  the  tempest,  blasts 

Of  demon-armies  clouding  all  the  wind. 

With  thunder,  and  with  blinding  lightning  flung 

In  jagged  javelins  of  purple  wrath 

From  splitting  skies  ;  sometimes  with  wiles  and  words 

Fair-sounding,  'mid  hushed  leaves  and  softened  airs 

From  shapes  of  witching  beauty  ;  wanton  songs, 

Whispers  of  love  ;  sometimes  with  royal  allures 

Of  proffered  rule ;  sometimes  with  mocking  doubts, 


BOOK   THE   SIXTH.  159 

Making  truth  vain.     But  whether  these  befell 
Without  and  visible,  or  whether  Buddh 
Strove  with  fell  spirits  in  his  inmost  heart, 
Judge  ye  :  —  I  write  what  ancient  books  have  writ. 

The  ten  chief  Sins  came  —  Mara's  mighty  ones, 
Angels  of  evil  —  Attavada  first, 
The  Sin  of  Self,  who  in  the  Universe 
As  in  a  mirror  sees  her  fond  face  shown, 
And  crying  "  I "  would  have  the  world  say  "  I," 
And  all  things  perish  so  if  she  endure. 
"  If  thou  be'st  Buddh,"  she  said,  "  let  others  grope 
Lightless  ;  it  is  enough  that  thou  art  Thou 
Changelessly  ;  rise  and  take  the  bliss  of  gods 
Who  change  not,  heed  not,  strive  not."    But  Buddh  spake, 
"  The  right  in  thee  is  base,  the  wrong  a  curse  ; 
Cheat  such  as  love  themselves."     Then  came  wan  Doubt, 
He  that  denies  —  the  mocking  Sin  —  and  this 
Hissed  in  the  Master's  ear,  "  All  things  are  shows. 
And  vain  the  knowledge  of  their  vanity ; 


l60  .  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

Thou  dost  but  chase  the  shadow  of  thyself; 

Rise  and  go  hence,  there  is  no  better  way 

Than  patient  scorn,  nor  any  help  for  man. 

Nor  any  staying  of  his  whirling  wheel." 

But  quoth  our  Lord,  "  Thou  hast  no  part  with  me, 

False  Visikitcha,  subtlest  of  man's  foes." 

And  third  came  she  who  gives  dark  creeds  their  power, 

Silabbat-paramasa,  sorceress, 

Draped  fair  in  many  lands  as  lowly  Faith, 

But  ever  juggling  souls  with  rites  and  prayers ; 

The  keeper  of  those  keys  which  lock  up  Hells 

And  open  Heavens.     *'  Wilt  thou  dare,"  she  said, 

"  Put  by  our  sacred  books,  dethrone  our  gods, 

Unpeople  all  the  temples,  shaking  down 

That  law  which  feeds  the  priests  and  props  the  realms  ?  " 

But  Buddha  answered,  "  What  thou  bidd'st  me  keep 

Is  form  which  passes,  but  the  free  Truth  stands  ; 

Get  thee  unto  thy  darkness."     Next  there  drew 

Gallantly  nigh  a  braver  Tempter,  he, 

Kama,  the  King  of  passions,  who  hath  sway 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH,  l6l 

Over  the  gods  themselves,  Lord  of  all  loves, 

Ruler  of  Pleasure's  realm.     Laughing  he  came 

Unto  the  Tree,  bearing  his  bow  of  gold 

Wreathed  with  red  blooms,  and  arrows  of  desire 

Pointed  with  five-tongued  delicate  flame  which  stings 

The  heart  it  smites  sharper  than  poisoned  barb  : 

And  round  him  came  into  that  lonely  place 

Bands  of  bright  shapes  with  heavenly  eyes  and  lips 

Singing  in  lovely  words  the  praise  of  Love 

To  music  of  invisible  sweet  chords. 

So  witching,  that  it  seemed  the  night  stood  still 

To  hear  them,  and  the  listening  stars  and  moon 

Paused  in  their  orbits  while  these  hymned  to  Buddh 

Of  lost  delights,  and  how  a  mortal  man 

Findeth  nought  dearer  in  the  three  wide  worlds 

Than  are  the  yielded  loving  fragrant  breasts 

Of  Beauty  and  the  rosy  breast-blossoms. 

Love's  rubies  ;  nay,  and  touchcth  nought  more  high 

Than  is  that  dulcet  harmony  of  form 

Seen  in  tlic  lines  and  charms  of  loveliness 

II 


l62  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Unspeakable,  yet  speaking,  soul  to  soul, 

Owned  by  the  bounding  blood,  worshipped  by  will 

Which  leaps  to  seize  it,  knowing  this  is  best, 

This  the  true  heaven  where  mortals  are  like  gods, 

Makers  and  Masters,  this  the  gift  of  gifts 

Ever  renewed  and  worth  a  thousand  woes. 

For  who  hath  grieved  when  soft  arms  shut  him  safe, 

And  all  life  melted  to  a  happy  sigh. 

And  all  the  world  was  given  in  one  warm  kiss  ? 

So  sang  they  with  soft  float  of  beckoning  hands. 

Eyes  lighted  with  love-flames,  alluring  smiles ; 

In  dainty  dance  their  supple  sides  and  limbs 

Revealing  and  concealing  like  burst  buds 

Wliich  tell  their  color,  but  hide  yet  their  hearts. 

Never  so  matchless  grace  delighted  eye 

As  troop  by  troop  these  midnight-dancers  swept 

Nearer  the  Tree,  each  daintier  than  the  last, 

Murmuring  "  O  great  Siddartha  !  I  am  thine, 

Taste  of  my  mouth  and  see  if  youth  is  sweet !  " 

Also,  when  nothing  moved  our  Master's  mind. 


BOOK   THE   SIXTH.  163 

Lo  !  Kama  waved  his  magic  bow,  and  lo  ! 

The  band  of  dancers  opened,  and  a  shape 

Fairest  and  stateliest  of  the  throng  came  forth 

Wearing  the  guise  of  sweet  Yasodhara. 

Tender  the  passion  of  those  dark  eyes  seemed 

Brimming  with  tears ;  yearning  those  outspread  arms 

Opened  towards  him  ;  musical  that  moan 

Wherewith  the  beauteous  shadow  named  his  name, 

Sighing  "  My  Prince  !  I  die  for  lack  of  thee  ! 

What  heaven  hast  thou  found  like  that  we  knew 

By  bright  Rohini  in  the  Pleasure-house, 

Where  all  these  weary  years  I  weep  for  thee  ? 

Return,  Siddartha  !  ah  !  return.     But  touch 

My  lips  again,  but  let  me  to  thy  breast 

Once,  and  these  fruitless  dreams  will  end  !     Ah,  look  ! 

Am  I  not  she  ihou  lovedst?  "     liut  Buddh  said, 

"  For  that  sweet  sake  of  her  thou  playest  thus 

Fair  and  false  Shadow  !  is  thy  playing  vain  ; 

1  curse  thee  not  who  wear'st  a  form  so  dear, 

Yet  as  thou  art  so  are  all  earthly  shows. 


164  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Melt  to  thy  void  again  !  "     Thereat  a  cry 
Thrilled  through  the  grove,  and  all  that  comely  rout 
Faded  with  flickering  wafts  of  flame,  and  trail 
Of  vaporous  robes. 

Next  under  darkening  skies 
And  noise  of  rising  storm  came  fiercer  Sins, 
The  rearmost  of  the  Ten  ;  Patigha  —  Hate  — 
With  serpents  coiled  about  her  waist,  which  suck 
Poisonous  milk  from  both  her  hanging  dugs, 
And  with  her  curses  mix  their  angry  hiss. 
Little  wrought  she  upon  that  Holy  One 
Who  with  his  calm  eyes  dumbed  her  bitter  lips 
And  made  her  black  snakes  writhe  to  hide  their  fangs.  • 
Then  followed  Ruparaga —  Lust  of  days  — 
That  sensual  Sin  wliich  out  of  greed  for  life 
Forgets  to  live  ;  and  next  him  Lust  of  Fame, 
'    Nobler  Aruparaga,  she  whose  spell 
Beguiles  the  wise,  mother  of  daring  deeds, 
Battles  and  toils.     And  haughty  Mano  came. 
The  Fiend  of  Pride ;  and  smooth  Self- Righteousness, 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  165 

Uddhachcha ;  and  —  with  many  a  hideous  band 
Of  vile  and  formless  things,  which  crept  and  flapped 
Toad-like  and  bat-like  —  Ignorance,  the  Dam 
Of  Fear  and  Wrong,  Avidya,  hideous  hag. 
Whose  footsteps  left  the  midnight  darker,  while 
The  rooted  mountains  shook,  the  wild  winds  howled. 
The  broken  clouds  shed  from  their  caverns  streams 
Of  levin-lighted  rain  ;  stars  shot  from  heaven, 
The  solid  earth  shuddered  as  if  one  laid 
Flame  to  her  gaping  wounds ;  the  torn  black  air 
Was  full  of  whistling  wings,  of  screams  and  yells, 
Of  evil  faces  peering,  of  vast  fronts 
Terrible  and  majestic.  Lords  of  Hell 
Who  from  a  thousand  Limbos  led  their  troops 
To  tempt  the  Master. 

But  Buddh  heeded  not, 
Sitting  serene,  with  perfect  virtue  walled 
As  is  a  stronghold  by  its  gates  and  ramps  3 
Also  the  Sacred  Tree  —  the  Bodhi-trec  — 
Amid  that  tumult  stirred  not,  but  each  leaf 


1 66  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Glistened  as  still  as  when  on  moonlit  eves 
No  zephyr  spills  the  glittering  gems  of  dew ; 
For  all  this  clamor  raged  outside  the  shade 
Spread  by  those  cloistered  stems  : 

In  the  third  watch. 
The  earth  being  still,  the  hellish  legions  fled, 
A  soft  air  breathing  from  the  sinking  moon. 
Our  Lord  attained  Sammd-sambuddh  ;  he  saw " 
By  light  which  shines  beyond  our  mortal  ken 
The  line  of  all  his  lives  in  all  the  worlds, 
Far  back  and  farther  back  and  farthest  yet. 
Five  hundred  lives  and  fifty.     Even  as  one. 
At  rest  upon  a  mountain-summit,  marks 
His  path  wind  up  by  precipice  and  crag, 
Past  thick-set  woods  shrunk  to  a  patch  ;  through  bogs 
Glittering  false -green ;  down  hollows  where  he  toiled 
Breathless ;  on  dizzy  ridges  where  his  feet 
Had  well-nigh  slipped  ;  beyond  the  sunny  lawns, 
The  cataract  and  the  cavern  and  the  pool, 
Backward  to  those  dim  flats  wherefrom  he  sprang 


BOOK   THE    SIXTH.  1 6/ 

To  reach  the  blue  ;  thus  Buddha  did  behold 

Life's  upward  steps  long-linked,  from  levels  low 

Where  breath  is  base,  to  higher  slopes  and  higher 

Whereon  the  ten  great  Virtues  wait  to  lead 

The  climber  skyward.     Also,  Buddha  saw 

How  new  hfe  reaps  what  the  old  life  did  sow : 

How  where  its  march  breaks  off  its  march  begins ; 

Holding  the  gain  and  answering  for  the  loss  ; 

And  how  in  each  life  good  begets  more  good, 

Evil  fresh  evil ;  Death  but  casting  up 

Debit  or  credit,  whereupon  th'  account 

In  merits  or  demerits  stamps  itself 

By  sure  arithmic  —  where  no  tittle  drops  — 

Certain  and  just,  on  some  new-springing  life  ; 

Wherein  are  packed  and  scored  past  thoughts  and  deeds, 

Strivings  and  triumphs,  memories  and  marks 

Of  lives  foregone : 

And  in  the  middle  watch 
Our  Lord  attained  Abhidjua  —  insight  vast 


l68  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Ranging  beyond  this  sphere  to  spheres  unnamed, 
System  on  system,  countless  worlds  and  suns 
Moving  in  splendid  measures,  band  by  band 
Linked  in  division,  one  yet  separate, 
The  silver  islands  of  a  sapphire  sea 
Shoreless  unfathomed,  undiminished,  stirred 
With  waves  which  roll  in  restless  tides  of  change. 
He  saw  those  Lords  of  Light  who  hold  their  worlds 
By  bonds  invisible,  how  they  themselves 
Circle  obedient  round  mightier  orbs 
Which  serve  profounder  splendors,  star  to  star 
Flashing  the  ceaseless  radiance  of  life 

« 

From  centres  ever  shifting  unto  cirques 

Knowing  no  uttermost.     These  he  beheld 

With  unsealed  vision,  and  of  all  those  worlds. 

Cycle  on  epicycle,  all  their  tale 

Of  Kalpas,  Mahakalpas  —  terms  of  time 

Which  no  man  grasps,  yea,  though  he  knew  to  count 

The  drops  in  Gunga  from  her  springs  to  the  sea. 

Measureless  unto  speech  —  whereby  these  wax 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  1 69 

And  wane  ;  whereby  each  of  this  heavenly  host 
Fulfils  its  shining  life  and  darkling  dies. 
Sakwal  by  Sakwal,  depths  and  heights  he  passed 
Transported  through  the  blue  infinitudes, 
Marking  —  behind  all  modes,  above  all  spheres, 
Beyond  the  burning  impulse  of  each  orb  — 
That  fixed  decree  at  silent  work  which  wills 
Evolve  the  dark  to  light,  the  dead  to  life, 
To  fulness  void,  to  form  the  yet  unformed, 
Good  unto  better,  better  unto  best, 
By  wordless  edict ;  having  none  to  bid. 
None  to  forbid ;  for  this  is  past  all  gods 
Immutable,  unspeakable,  supreme, 
A  Power  which  builds,  unbuilds,  and  builds  again, 
Ruling  all  things  accordant  to  the  rule 
Of  virtue,  which  is  beauty,  truth,  and  use. 
So  that  all  things  do  well  which  serve  the  Power, 
And  ill  which  hinder ;  nay,  the  worm  docs  well 
Obedient  to  its  kind  ;  the  hawk  does  well 
Which  carries  bleeding  quarries  to  its  young  ; 


I/O  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  dewdrop  and  the  star  shine  sisterly, 
Globing  together  in  the  common  work ; 
And  man  who  lives  to  die,  dies  to  live  well 
So  if  he  guide  his  ways  by  blamelessness 
And  earnest  will  to  hinder  not  but  help 
All  things  both  great  and  small  which  suffer  life. 
These  did  our  Lord  see  in  the  middle  watch. 

But  when  the  fourth  watch  came  the  secret  came 
Of  Sorrow,  which  with  evil  mars  the  law, 
As  damp  and  dross  hold  back  the  goldsmith's  fire. 
Then  was  the  Duklia-satya  opened  him 
First  of  the  "  Noble  Truths ;  "  how  Sorrow  is 
Shadow  to  life,  moving  where  life  doth  move ; 
Not  to  be  laid  aside  until  one  lays 
Living  aside,  with  all  its  changing  states, 
Birth,  growth,  decay,  love,  hatred,  pleasure,  pain. 
Being  and  doing.     How  that  none  strips  off 
These  sad  delights  and  pleasant  griefs  who  lacks 
Knowledge  to  know  them  snares  ;  but  he  who  knows 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  I/I 

Avidya  —  Delusion  —  sets  those  snares, 

Loves  life  no  longer  but  ensues  escape. 

The  eyes  of  such  a  one  are  wide,  he  sees 

Delusion  breeds  Sankhara,  Tendency 

Perverse  :  Tendency  Energy  —  Vidnnan  — 

Whereby  comes  Namarupa,  local  form 

And  name  and  bodiment,  bringing  the  man 

With  senses  naked  to  the  sensible, 

A  helpless  mirror  of  all  shows  which  pass 

Across  his  heart ;  and  so  Vedana  grows  — 

*  Sense-life  '  —  false  in  its  gladness,  fell  in  sadness, 

But  sad  or  glad,  the  Mother  of  Desire, 

Trishna,  that  thirst  which  makes  the  living  drink 

Deeper  and  deeper  of  the  false  salt  waves 

Whereon  they  float,  pleasures,  ambitions,  wealth. 

Praise,  fame,  or  domination,  conquest,  love ; 

Rich  meats  and  robes,  and  fair  abodes,  and  pride 

Of  ancient  lines,  and  lust  of  days,  and  strife 

To  live,  and  sins  that  flow  from  strife,  some  sweet. 

Some  bitter.     Thus  Life's  thirst  quenches  itself 


1/2  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

With  draughts  which  double  thirst,  but  who  is  wise 

Tears  from  his  soul  this  Trishna,  feeds  his  sense 

No  longer  on  false  shows,  files  his  firm  mind 

To  seek  not,  strive  not,  wrong  not ;  bearing  meek 

All  ills  which  flow  from  foregone  wrongfulness. 

And  so  constraining  passions  that  they  die 

Famished  ;  till  all  the  sum  of  ended  life  — 

The  Karma  —  all  that  total  of  a  soul 

Which  is  the  things  it  did,  the  thoughts  it  had, 

The  '  Self '  it  wove  —  with  woof  of  viewless  time, 

Crossed  on  the  warp  invisible  of  acts  — 

The  outcome  of  him  on  the  Universe, 

Grows  pure  and  sinless  ;  either  never  more 

Needing  to  find  a  body  and  a  place. 

Or  so  informing  what  fresh  frame  it  takes 

In  new  existence  that  the  new  toils  prove 

Lighter  and  lighter  not  to  be  at  all, 

Thus  "  finishing  the  Path  ;  "  free  from  Earth's  cheats  ; 

Released  from  all  the  skandhas  of  the  flesh  ; 

Broken  from  tics  —  from  Upadanas  —  saved 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH.  1/3 

From  whirling  on  the  wheel ;  aroused  and  sane 

As  is  a  man  wakened  from  hateful  dreams. 

Until  —  greater  than  Kings,  than  Gods  more  glad  !  — 

The  aching  craze  to  live  ends,  and  life  glides  — 

Lifeless  —  to  nameless  quiet,  nameless  joy, 

Blessed  Nirvana  —  sinless,  stirless  rest  — 

That  change  which  never  changes  ! 

Lo  !  the  Dawn 
Sprang  with  Buddh's  Victory  !  lo  !  in  the  East 
Flamed  the  first  fires  of  beauteous  day,  poured  forth 
Through  fleeting  folds  of  Night's  black  drapery. 
High  in  the  widening  blue  the  herald-star 
Faded  to  paler  silver  as  there  shot 
Brighter  and  brightest  bars  of  rosy  gleam 
Across  the  grey.     Far  off  the  shadowy  hills 
Saw  the  great  Sun,  before  the  world  was  'ware, 
And   donned   their   crowns   of    crimson;    flower  by 

flower 
Felt  the  warm  breath  of  Morn  and  'gan  unfold 


174  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Their  tender  lids.     Over  the  spangled  grass 

Swept  the  swift  footsteps  of  the  lovely  Light, 

Turning  the  tears  of  Night  to  joyous  gems, 

Decking  the  earth  with  radiance,  'broidering 

The  sinking  storm-clouds  with  a  golden  fringe, 

Gilding  the  feathers  of  the  palms,  which  waved 

Glad  salutation  ;  darting  beams  of  gold 

Into  the  glades  ;  touching  with  magic  wand 

The  stream  to  rippled  ruby ;  in  the  brake 

Finding  the  mild  eyes  of  the  antelopes 

And  saying  "  it  is  day ;  "  in  nested  sleep 

Touching  the  small  heads  under  many  a  wing 

And  whispering,  "  Children,  praise  the  light  of  day  !  " 

Whereat  there  piped  anthems  of  all  the  birds, 

The  Koil's  fluted  song,  the  Bulbul's  hymn, 

The  "  morning,  morning  "  of  the  painted  thrush. 

The  twitter  of  the  sunbirds  starting  forth 

To  find  the  lioney  ere  the  bees  be  out. 

The  grey  crow's  caw,  the  parrot's  scream,  the  strokes 

Of  the  green  hammersmith,  the  myna's  chirp. 


BOOK   THE    SIXTH.  1/5 

The  never  finished  love-talk  of  the  doves  : 

Yea  !  and  so  holy  was  the  influence 

Of  that  high  Dawn  which  came  with  victory 

That,  far  and  near,  in  homes  of  men  there  spread 

An  unknown  peace.     The  slayer  hid  his  knife  ; 

The  robber  laid  his  plunder  back  ;  the  shroff 

Counted  full  tale  of  coins  ;  all  evil  hearts 

Grew  gentle,  kind  hearts  gender,  as  the  balm 

Of  that  divinest  Daybreak  lightened  Earth. 

Kings  at  fierce  war  called  truce  ;  the  sick  men  leaped 

Laughing  from  beds  of  pain  ;  the  dying  smiled 

As  though  they  knew  that  happy  INTorn  was  sprung 

From  fountains  farther  than  the  utmost  East ; 

And  o'er  the  heart  of  sad  Yasodhara, 

Silting  forlorn  at  Prince  Siddartha's  bed, 

Came  sudden  bliss,  as  if  love  should  not  fail 

Nor  such  vast  sorrow  miss  to  end  in  joy. 

So  glad  the  World  was  —  though  it  wist  not  why  — 

That  over  desolate  wastes  went  swooning  songs 

Of  mirth,  the  voice  of  bodiless  Prets  and  Bhuts 


176  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

Foreseeing  Buddh ;  and  Devas  in  the  air 
Cried  "  It  is  finished,  finished  !  "  and  the  priests 
Stood  with  the  wondering  people  in  the  streets 
Watching  those  golden  splendors  flood  the  sky 
And   saying   "There    hath    happed    some    mighty 

thing." 
Also  in  Ran  and  Jungle  grew  that  day 
Friendship  amongst  the  creatures ;  spotted  deer 
Browsed  fearless  where  the  tigress  fed  her  cubs, 
And  cheetahs  lapped  the  pool  beside  the  bucks ; 
Under  the  eagle's  rock  the  brown  hares  scoured 
While  his  fierce  beak  but  preened  an  idle  wing ; 
The  snake  sunned  all  his  jewels  in  the  beam 
With  deadly  fangs  in  sheath  ;  the  shrike  let  pass 
The  nestling-finch  ;  the  emerald  halcyons 
Sate  dreaming  while  the  fishes  played  beneath. 
Nor  hawked  the  merops,  though  the  butterflies  — 
Crimson  and  blue  and  amber  —  flitted  thick 
Around  his  perch ;  the  Spirit  of  our  Lord 
Lay  potent  upon  man  and  bird  and  beast, 


BOOK   THE   SIXTH.  1/7 

Even  while  he  mused  under  that  Bodhi-tree, 
Glorified  with  the  Conquest  gained  for  all 
And  lightened  by  a  Light  greater  than  Day's. 

Then  he  arose  —  radiant,  rejoicing,  strong  — 
Beneath  the  Tree,  and  lifting  high  his  voice 
Spake  this,  in  hearing  of  all  Times  and  Worlds  :  — 


Anekajdtisaftgsdrang 
Safid/idwissang  anibhisang 
Gahakdrakangawesanto 
Dukkhdjdtipiinappunang. 

Gahahdrakadithosi  ; 
Ptmagehavg  iiakdhasi  ; 
Sabhdtcphdsukhdbhaggd, 
Gahaki'ttangwisang  kJiitang ; 
Wisatigkhdragataiig  chittaiig  ; 
yatihdnajigkhayainajhagd. 


178  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Many  a  House  of  Life 
Hath  held  me  —  seeking  ever  him  who  wrought 
These  prisons  of  the  senses,  sorrow-fraught  ; 

Sore  was  my  ceaseless  strife  ! 

But  now, 
Thou  Builder  of  this  Tabernacle  —  Thou  ! 
I  know  Thee  !     Never  shalt  thou  build  again 

These  walls  of  pain, 
Nor  raise  the  roof-tree  of  deceits,  nor  lav 

Fresh  rafters  on  the  clay  ; 
Broken  thy  house  is,  and  the  ridge-pole  split  ! 

Delusion  fashioned  it  ! 
Safe  pass  I  thence  —  deliverance  to  obtain. 


Booft  tjje  ^e^tnilf. 


Sorrowful  dwelt  the  King  Suddhodana 
All  those  long  years  among  the  Sakya  Lords 
Lacking  the  speech  and  presence  of  his  Son ; 
Sorrowful  sate  the  sweet  Yasodhara 
All  those  long  years,  knowing  no  joy  of  life, 
Widowed  of  him  her  living  Liege  and  Prince 
And  ever,  on  the  news  of  some  recluse 
Seen  far  away  by  pasturing  camel-men 
Or  traders  threading  devious  paths  for  gain, 
Messengers  from  the  King  had  gone  and  come 
Bringing  account  of  many  a  holy  sage 
Lonely  and  lost  to  home  ;  but  nought  of  him 
The  crown  of  white  Kapilavastu's  line, 
The  glory  of  her  monarch  and  his  hope, 


I  So  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  heart's  content  of  sweet  Yasodhara, 
Far-wandered  now,  forgetful,  changed,  or  dead. 

* 

But  on  a  day  in  the  Wasanta-time, 
When  silver  sprays  swing  on  the  mango-trees 
And  all  the  earth  is  clad  with  garb  of  spring, 
The  Princess  sate  by  that  bright  garden-stream 
Whose  gliding  glass,  bordered  with  lotus-cups, 
Mirrored  so  often  in  the  bhss  gone  by 
Their  clinging  hands  and  meeting  lips.     Her  lids 
Were  wan  with  tears,  her  tender  cheeks  had  thinned ; 
Her  lips'  delicious  curves  were  drawn  with  grief; 
The  lustrous  glory  of  her  hair  was  hid  — 
Close-bound  as  widows  use  ;  no  ornament 
She  wore,  nor  any  jewel  clasped  the  cloth  — 
Coarse,  and  of  mourning-white  —  crossed  on  her  breast. 
Slow  moved  and  painfully  those  small  fine  feet 
Which  had  the  roe's  gait  and  the  rose-leaf  s  fall 
In  old  years  at  the  loving  voice  of  him. 
Her  eyes,  those  lamps  of  love,  —  which  were  as  if 


BOOK   THE    SEVENTH.  l8l 

Sunlight  should  shine  from  out  the  deepest  dark, 

Illumining  Night's  peace  with  Daytime's  glow  — 

Unlighted  now,  and  roving  aimlessly, 

Scarce  marked  the  clustering  signs  of  coming  Spring 

So  the  silk  lashes  drooped  over  their  orbs. 

In  one  hand  was  a  girdle  thick  with  pearls, 

Siddartha's  —  treasured  since  that  night  he  fled  — 

(Ah,  bitter  Night !  mother  of  weeping  days  ! 

When  was  fond  Love  so  pitiless  to  love 

Save  that  this  scorned  to  Hmit  love  by  life  ?) 

The  other  led  her  little  son,  a  boy 

Divinely  fair,  the  pledge  Siddarlha  left  — 

Named  Rahula  —  now  seven  years  old,  who  tripped 

Gladsome  beside  his  mother,  light  of  heart 

To  see  the  spring-blooms  burgeon  o'er  the  world. 

So  while  they  lingered  by  the  lotus-pools 
And,  lightly  laughing,  Raliula  flung  rice 
To  feed  the  blue  and  puqile  fish  ;  and  she 
With  sad  eyes  watched  the  swiftly-flying  cranes, 


1 82  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Sighing,  "  Oh  !  creatures  of  the  wandering  wing, 

If  ye  shall  light  where  my  dear  Lord  is  hid, 

Say  that  Yasodhara  lives  nigh  to  death 

For  one  word  of  his  mouth,  one  touch  of  him  !  "  — 

So,  as  they  played  and  sighed  —  mother  and  child  — 

Came  some  among  the  damsels  of  the  Court 

Saying,  "  Great  Princess  !  there  have  entered  in 

At  the  south  gate  merchants  of  Hastinpur 

Tripusha  called  and  Bhalluk,  men  of  worth. 

Long  travelled  from  the  loud  sea's  edge,  who  bring 

Marvellous  lovely  webs  pictured  with  gold. 

Waved  blades  of  gilded  steel,  wrought  bowls  in  brass, 

Cut  ivories,  spice,  simples,  and  unknown  birds, 

Treasures  of  far-off  peoples ;  but  they  bring 

That  which  doth  beggar  these,  for  He  is  seen  ! 

Thy  Lord,  —  our  Lord,  —  the  hope  of  all  the  land  — 

Siddartha  !  they  have  seen  him  face  to  face, 

Yea,  and  have  worshipped  him  with  knees  and  brows. 

And  offered  offerings ;  for  he  is  become 

All  which  was  shown,  a  teacher  of  the  wise. 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  1 83 

World-lionored,  holy,  wonderful ;  a  Buddh 
Who  doth  deliver  men  and  save  all  flesh 
By  sweetest  speech  and  pity  vast  as  Heaven  : 
And,  lo  !  he  journeyeth  hither  these  do  say." 

Then  —  while  the  glad  blood  bounded  in  her  veins 
As  Gunga  leaps  when  first  the  mountain  snows 
Melt  at  her  springs  —  uprose  Yasodhara 
And  clapped  her  palms,  and  laughed,  with  brimming  tears 
Beading  her  lashes.     "  Oh  !  call  quick,"  she  cried, 
"  These  merchants  to  my  purdah,  for  mine  ears 
Thirst  like  parched  throats  to  drink  their  blessed  news. 
Go  bring  them  in,  —  but  if  their  tale  be  true. 
Say  I  will  fill  their  girdles  with  much  gold, 
With  gems  that  Kings  shall  envy  :  come  ye  too, 
My  girls,  for  ye  shall  have  guerdon  of  this 
If  there  be  gifts  to  speak  my  grateful  heart." 

So  went  those  merchants  to  the  Pleasure- House, 

Full  softly  pacing  through  its  golden  ways 


184  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

With  naked  feet,  amid  the  peering  maids, 
Much  wondering  at  the  glories  of  the  Court. 
Whom,  when  they  came  without  the  purdah's  folds, 
A  voice,  tender  and  eager,  filled  and  charmed 
With  trembling  music,  saying,  "  Ye  are  come 
From  far,  fair  Sirs  !  and  ye  have  seen  my  Lord  — 
Yea,  worshipped  —  for  he  is  become  a  Buddh, 
World-honored,  holy,  and  delivers  men, 
And  joumeyeth  hither.     Speak  !  for,  if  this  be, 
Friends  are  ye  of  my  House,  welcome  and  dear." 

Then  answer  made  Tripusha,  "  We  have  seen 
That  sacred  Master,  Princess  !  we  have  bowed 
Before  his  feet ;  for  who  was  lost  a  Prince 
Is  found  a  greater  than  the  King  of  kings. 
Under  the  Budhi-tree  by  Phalgu's  bank 
That  which  shall  save  the  world  hath  late  been  wrought 
By  him  —  the  Friend  of  all,  the  Prince  of  all  — 
Thine  most.  High  Lady  !  from  whose  tears  men  win 
The  comfort  of  this  Word  the  Master  speaks. 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  1 85 

Lo  !  he  is  well,  as  one  beyond  all  ills, 

Uplifted  as  a  god  from  earthly  woes, 

Shining  with  risen  Truth,  golden  and  clear. 

Moreover  as  he  entereth  town  by  town, 

Preaching  those  noble  ways  which  lead  to  peace, 

The  hearts  of  men  follow  his  path  as  leaves 

Troop  to  wind  or  sheep  draw  after  one 

Who  knows  the  pastures.     We  ourselves  have  heard 

By  Gaya  in  the  green  Tchirnika  grove 

Those  wondrous  lips  and  done  them  reverence  : 

He  Cometh  hither  ere  the  first  rains  fall." 

Thus  spake  he,  and  Yasodhara,  for  joy, 
Scarce  mastered  breath  to  answer,  "  Be  it  well 
Now  and  at  all  times  with  ye,  worthy  friends  ! 
Who  bring  good  tidings  ;  but  of  this  great  thing 
Wist  ye  how  it  befell?" 

Then  Bhalluk  told 
Such  as  the  people  of  the  valleys  knew 
Of  that  dread  night  of  conflict,  when  tl)e  air 


1 86  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Darkened  with  fiendish  shadows,  and  the  earth 

Quaked,  and  the  waters  swelled  with  Mara's  wrath. 

Also  how  gloriously  that  morning  broke 

Radiant  with  rising  hopes  for  man,  and  how 

The  Lord  was  found  rejoicing  'neath  his  Tree. 

But  many  days  the  burden  of  release  — 

To  be  escaped  beyond  all  storms  of  doubt, 

Safe  on  Truth's  shore  —  lay,  spake  he,  on  that  heart 

A  golden  load  ;  for  how  shall  men  —  Buddh  mused  — 

Who  love  their  sins  and  cleave  to  cheats  of  sense, 

And  drink  of  error  from  a  thousand  springs  — 

Having  no  mind  to  see,  nor  strength  to  break 

The  fleshly  snare  which  binds  them  —  how  should  such 

Receive  the  Twelve  Nidanas  and  the  Law 

Redeeming  all,  yet  strange  to  profit  by. 

As  the  caged  bird  oft  shuns  its  opened  door  ? 

So  had  we  missed  the  helpful  victory 

If,  in  this  earth  without  a  refuge,  Buddh 

Winning  the  way,  had  deemed  it  all  too  hard 

For  mortal  feet,  and  passed,  none  following  him. 


BOOK   THE    SEVENTH.  1 8/ 

Yet  pondered  the  compassion  of  our  Lord, 

But  in  that  hour  there  rang  a  voice  as  sharp 

As  cry  of  travail,  so  as  if  the  earth 

Moaned  in  birth-throe   "  Nasyami  aham  bhA 

JVasyati  lokaf"  Surely  I  am  lost, 

I  AND  MY  CREATURES  :  then  a  pause,  and  next 

A  pleading  sigh  borne  on  the  western  wind, 

"  Sruyatdm  dharma,  Bhagwat  !^^     Oh,  Supreme  ! 

Let  thy  great  Law  be  uttered  !     Whereupon 

The  Master  cast  his  vision  forth  on  flesh. 

Saw  who  should  hear  and  who  must  wait  to  hear. 

As  the  keen  Sun  gilding  the  lotus-lakes 

Seeth  which  buds  will  open  to  his  beams 

And  which  are  not  yet  risen  from  their  roots  ; 

Then  spake,  divinely  smiling,  "  Yea  !  I  preach  ! 

Whoso  will  listen  let  him  learn  the  Law." 

Afterwards  passed  he,  said  they,  by  the  hills 
Unto  Benares,  where  he  taught  the  Five, 
Showing  how  birth  and  death  should  be  destroyed. 


1 88  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

And  how  man  hath  no  fate  except  past  deeds, 
No  Hell  but  what  he  makes,  no  Heaven  too  high 
For  those  to  reach  whose  passions  sleep  subdued. 
This  was  the  fifteenth  day  of  Vaishya 
Mid-afternoon  and  that  night  was  full  moon. 

But,  of  the  Rishis,  first  Kaundinya 
Owned  the  Four  Truths  and  entered  on  the  Paths ; 
And  after  him  Bhadraka,  Asvajit, 
Basava,  Mahanama ;  also  there 
Within  the  Deer-park,  at  the  feet  of  Buddh, 
Yasad  the  Prince  with  nobles  fifty-four 
Hearing  the  blessed  word  our  Master  spake 
Worshipped  and  followed  ;  for  there  sprang  up  peace 
And  knowledge  of  a  new  time  corrie  for  men 
In  all  who  heard,  as  spring  the  flowers  and  grass 
When  water  sparkles  through  a  sandy  plain. 

These  sixty  —  said  they  —  did  our  Lord  send  forth. 
Made  perfect  in  restraint  and  passion-free, 


BOOK   THE   SEVENTH.  1 89 

To  teach  the  Way ;  but  the  World-honored  turned 

South  from  the  Deer-park  and  Isipatan 

To  Yashti  and  King  Bimbasara's  realm, 

Where  many  days  he  taught ;  and  after  these 

King  Bimbasara  and  his  folk  believed, 

Learning  the  law  of  love  and  ordered  life. 

Also  he  gave  the  Master,  of  free  gift,  — 

Pouring  forth  water  on  the  hands  of  Buddh  — 

The  Bamboo-Garden,  named  W^luvana, 

Wherein  are  streams  and  caves  and  lovely  glades ; 

And  the  King  set  a  stone  there,  carved  with  this  :  — 

Ye  dharma  hetuppahhawd 

Yesan  hetiin  Tathdgato  ; 
Aha  yesan  cha  yo  nirodhS 
Ewan  wadi  Maha  samano. 

"  What  life's  course  and  cause  sustain 
These  Tathagato  made  plain  ; 
What  delivers  from  life's  woe 
That  our  Lord  hath  made  us  know." 


1 90  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

And,  in  that  Garden  —  said  they  —  there  was  held 
A  high  Assembly,  where  the  Teacher  spake 
Wisdom  and  power,  winning  all  souls  which  heard, 
So  that  nine  hundred  took  the  yellow  robe  — 
Such  as  the  Master  wears,  —  and  spread  his  Law ; 
And  tliis  the  gathi  was  wherewith  he  closed  :  — 

Sabba  pdpassa  akaranan  ; 
Kiisalassa  ripasampadd  ; 
Sa  chitta  pariyodapanan  ; 
Etan  Biidhdnusdsanan. 

"  Evil  swells  the  debts  to  pay, 
Good  delivers  and  acquits  ; 
Shun  evil,  follow  good ;  hold  sway 
Over  thyself.     This  is  the  Way." 

Whom,  when  they  ended,  speaking  so  of  him, 
With  gifts,  and  thanks  which  made  the  jewels  dull, 
The  Princess  recompensed.     "  But  by  what  road 
Wendeth  my  Lord?  "  she  asked  :  the  merchants  said, 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  I9I 

"  Yojans  threescore  stretch  from  the  city-walls 
To  Rajagriha,  whence  the  easy  path 
Passeth  by  Sona  hither  and  the  hills. 
Our  oxen,  treading  eight  slow  koss  a  day, 
Came  in  one  moon." 

Then  the  King  hearing  word. 
Sent  nobles  of  the  Court  —  well-mounted  lords  — 
Nine  separate  messengers,  each  embassy 
Bidden  to  say,  ''  The  King  Suddhodana  — 
Nearer  the  pyre  by  seven  long  years  of  lack. 
Wherethrough  he  hath  not  ceased  to  seek  for  thee  — 
Prays  of  his  son  to  come  unto  his  own, 
The  Throne  and  people  of  this  longing  Realm, 
Lest  he  shall  die  and  see  thy  face  no  more." 
Also  nine  horsemen  sent  Yasodhara 
Bidden  to  say,  "  The  Princess  of  thy  House  — 
Rahula's  mother  —  craves  to  see  thy  face 
As  the  night-blowing  moon-flower's  swelling  heart 
Pines  for  the  moon,  as  pale  asoka-buds 
Wait  for  a  woman's  foot :  if  thou  hast  found 


192  THE   LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

More  than  was  lost,  she  prays  her  part  in  this, 

Rahula's  part,  but  most  of  all  thyself." 

So  sped  the  Sakya  Lords,  but  it  befell 

That  each  one,  with  the  message  in  his  mouth, 

Entered  the  Bamboo-Garden  in  that  hour 

When  Buddha  taught  his  Law  ;  and  —  hearing  —  each 

Forgot  to  speak,  lost  thought  of  King  and  quest, 

Of  the  sad  Princess  even ;  only  gazed 

Eye-rapt  upon  the  Master ;  only  hung 

Heart-caught  upon  the  speech,  compassionate, 

Commanding,  perfect,  pure,  enlightening  all. 

Poured  from  those  sacred  lips.     Look  !  like  a  bee 

Winged  for  the  hive,  who  sees  the  mogras  spread 

And  scents  their  utter  sweetness  on  the  air. 

If  he  be  honey-filled,  it  matters  not ; 

If  night  be  nigh,  or  rain,  he  will  not  heed ; 

Needs  must  he  light  on  those  dehcious  blooms 

And  drain  their  nectar  ;  so  these  messengers 

One  with  another,  hearing  Buddha's  words, 

Let  go  the  purpose  of  their  speed,  and  mixed. 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  193 

Heedless  of  all,  amid  the  Master's  train. 
Wherefore  the  King  bade  that  Udayi  go  — 
Chiefest  in  all  the  Court,  and  faithfullest, 
Siddartha's  playmate  in  the  happier  days  — 
Who,  as  he  drew  anear  the  garden,  plucked 
Blown  tufts  of  tree-wool  from  the  grove  and  sealed 
The  entrance  of  his  hearing ;  thus  he  came 
Safe  through  the  lofty  peril  of  the  place 
And  told  the  message  of  the  King,  and  her's. 

Then  meekly  bowed  his  head  and  spake  our  Lord 
Before  the  people,  "  Surely  I  shall  go  ! 
It  is  my  duty  as  it  was  niy  will ; 
Let  no  man  miss  to  render  reverence 
To  those  who  lend  him  life,  whereby  come  means 
To  live  and  die  no  more,  but  safe  attain 
BHssful  Nirvana,  if  ye  keep  the  Law, 
Purging  past  wrongs  and  adding  nought  thereto, 
Complete  in  love  and  lovely  charities. 
Let  the  King  know  and  let  the  Princess  hear 

13 


194  THE   LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

I  take  the  way  forthwith."    This  told,  the  folk 

Of  white  Kapilavastu  and  its  fields 

Made  ready  for  the  entrance  of  their  Prince. 

At  the  south  gate  a  bright  pavilion  rose 

With  flower-wreathed  pillars  and  the  walls  of  silk 

Wrought  on  their  red  and  green  with  woven  gold. 

Also  the  roads  were  laid  with  scented  boughs 

Of  neem  and  mango,  and  full  mussuks  shed 

Sandal  and  jasmine  on  the  dust,  and  flags 

Fluttered  ;  and  on  the  day  when  he  should  come 

It  was  ordained  how  many  elephants  — 

With  silver  howdahs  and  their  tusks  gold-tipped  — 

Should  wait  beyond  the  ford,  and  where  the  drums 

Should  boom  "  Siddartha  cometh  !  "  where  the  lords 

Should  light  and  worship,  and  the  dancing-girls 

Where  they  should  strew  their  flowers  with  dance  and  song 

So  that  the  steed  he  rode  might  tramp  knee-deep 

In  rose  and  balsam,  and  the  ways  be  fair ; 

While  the  town  rang  with  music  and  high  joy. 

This  was  ordained,  and  all  men's  ears  were  pricked 


BOOK   THE    SEVENTH.  I 95 

Dawn  after  dawn  to  catch  the  first  drum's  beat 
Announcing,  "  Now  he  cometh  ! " 

But  it  fell  — 
Eager  to  be  before  —  Yasodhara 
Rode  in  her  litter  to  the  city-walls 
Where  soared  the  bright  pavilion.     All  around 
A  beauteous  garden  smiled  —  Nigrodha  named  — 
Shaded  with  bel-trees  and  the  green-plumed  dates, 
New-trimmed  and  gay  with  winding  walks  and  banks 
Of  fruits  and  flowers  ;  for  the  southern  road 
Skirted  its  lawns,  on  this  hand  leaf  and  bloom, 
On  that  the  suburb-huts  where  base-boms  dwelt 
Outside  the  gates,  a  patient  folk  and  poor, 
Whose  touch  for  Kshatriya  and  priest  of  Brahm 
Were  sore  defilement.     Yet  those,  too,  were  quick 

0 

With  expectation,  rising  ere  the  dawn 

To  peer  along  the  road,  to  climb  the  trees 

At  far-off  trumpet  of  some  elephant. 

Or  stir  of  temple-drum  ;  and  when  none  came, 

Busied  with  lowly  chares  to  please  the  Prince  ; 


ig6  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Sweeping  their  door-stones,  setting  forth  their  flags, 

Stringing  the  fluted  fig-leaves  into  chains, 

New  furbishing  the  Lingam,  decking  new 

Yesterday's  faded  arch  of  boughs,  but  aye 

Questioning  wayfarers  if  any  noise 

Be  on  the  road  of  great  Siddartha.     These 

The  Princess  marked  with  lovely  languid  eyes, 

Watching,  as  they,  the  southward  plain,  and  bent 

Like  them  to  hsten  if  the  passers  gave 

News  of  the  path.     So  fell  it  she  beheld 

One  slow  approaching  with  his  head  close  shorn, 

A  yellow  cloth  over  his  shoulder  cast. 

Girt  as  the  hermits  arc,  and  in  his  hand 

An  earthen  bowl,  shaped  melonwise,  the  which 

Meekly  at  each  hut-door  he  held  a  space, 

Taking  the  granted  dole  with  gentle  thanks 

And  all  as  gently  passing  where  none  gave. 

Two  foflowed  him  wearing  the  yellow  robe. 

But  he  who  bore  the  bowl  so  lordly  seemed. 

So  reverend,  and  with  such  a  passage  moved. 


BOOK   THE   SEVENTH.  igj 

With  SO  commanding  presence  filled  the  air, 

With  such  sweet  eyes  of  holiness  smote  all, 

That,  as  they  reached  him  alms  the  givers  gazed 

Awestruck  upon  his  face,  and  some  bent  down 

In  worship,  and  some  ran  to  fetch  fresh  gifts 

Grieved  to  be  poor ;  till  slowly,  group  by  group, 

Children  and  men  and  women  drew  behind 

Into  his  steps,  whispering  with  covered  hps, 

"  Who  is  he?  who?  when  looked  a  Rishi  thus?  " 

But  as  he  came  with  quiet  footfall  on 

Nigh  the  pavilion,  lo  !  llic  silken  door 

Lifted,  and,  all  unveiled,  Yasodhara 

Stood  in  his  path  crying,  "  Siddartha  !  Lord  !  " 

With  wide  eyes  streaming  and  with  close-clasped  hands, 

Then  sobbing  fell  upon  his  feet,  and  lay. 

Afterwards,  when  this  weeping  lady  passed 
Into  the  Noble  Paths,  and  one  had  prayed 
Answer  from  Buddha  wherefore  —  being  vowed 
Quit  of  all  mortal  passion  and  the  touch, 


1 98  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

Flowerisoft  and  conquering,  of  a  woman's  hands  — 

He  suffered  such  embrace,  the  Master  said  : 

"  The  greater  beareth  with  the  lesser  love* 

So  it  may  raise  it  unto  easier  heights. 

Take  heed  that  no  man,  being  'scaped  from  bonds, 

Vexeth  bound  souls  with  boasts  of  liberty. 

Free  are  ye  rather  that  your  freedom  spread 

By  patient  winning  and  sweet  wisdom's  skill. 

Three  eras  of  long  toil  bring  Bodhisats  — 

Who  will  be  guides  and  help  this  darkling  world  — 

Unto  deliverance,  and  the  first  is  named 

Of  deep  '  Resolve,'  the  second  of  *  Attempt,' 

The  third  of  '  Nomination.'     Lo  !  I  lived 

In  era  of  Resolve,  desiring  good, 

Searching  for  wisdom,  but  mine  eyes  were  sealed. 

Count  the  grey  seeds  on  yonder  castor-clump. 

So  many  rains  it  is  since  I  was  Ram, 

A  mcrcliant  of  the  coast  which  looketh  south 

To  Lanka  and  the  hiding-place  of  pearls. 

Also  in  that  far  time  Yasodhara 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  199 

Dwelt  with  me  in  our  village  by  the  sea, 
Tender  as  now,  and  Lukshmi  was  her  name. 
And  I  remember  how  I  journeyed  thence 
Seeking  our  gain,  for  poor  the  household  was 
And  lowly.     Not  the  less  with  wistful  tears 
She  prayed  me  that  I  should  not  part,  nor  tempt 
Perils  by  land  and  water.     '  How  could  love 
Leave  what  it  loved  ?  '  she  wailed  ;  yet,  venturing,  I 
Passed  to  the  Straits,  and  after  storm  and  toil 
And  deadly  strife  with  creatures  of  the  deep, 
And  woes  beneath  the  midnight  and  the  noon, 
Searching  the  wave  I  won  therefrom  a  pearl 
Moonlike  and  glorious,  such  as  Kings  might  buy 
Emptying  their  treasury.     Then  came  I  glad 
Unto  mine  hills,  but  over  all  that  land 
Famine  spread  sore  ;  ill  was  I  stead  to  live 
In  journey  home,  and  hardly  reached  my  door  — 
Aching  for  food  —  with  that  white  wealth  of  the  sea 
Tied  in  my  girdle.     Yet  no  food  was  there  ; 
And  on  the  threshold  she  for  whom  I  toiled  — 


200  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

More  than  myself — lay  with  her  speechless  lips 

Nigh  unto  death  for  one  small  gift  of  grain. 

Then  cried  I,  '  If  there  be  who  hath  of  grain, 

Here  is  a  kingdom's  ransom  for  one  life  : 

Give  Lukshmi  bread  and  take  my  moonlight  pearl.' 

Whereat  one  brought  the  last  of  all  his  hoard, 

Millet  —  three  seers  —  and  clutched  the  beauteous  thing. 

But  Lukshmi  lived  and  sighed  with  gathered  life, 

'  Lo  !  thou  didst  love  indeed  ! '     I  spent  my  pearl 

Well  in  that  life  to  comfort  heart  and  mind 

Else  quite  uncomforted,  but  these  pure  pearls, 

My  last  large  gain,  won  from  a  deeper  wave  — • 

The  Twelve  Nidanas  and  the  Law  of  Good  — 

Cannot  be  spent,  nor  dimmed,  and  most  fulfil 

Their  perfect  beauty  being  freeliest  given. 

For  like  as  is  to  Meru  yonder  hill 

Heaped  by  the  little  ants,  and  like  as  dew 

Dropped  in  the  footmark  of  a  bounding  roe 

Unto  the  shoreless  seas,  so  was  that  gift 

Unto  my  present  giving ;  and  so  love  — 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  201 

Vaster  in  being  free  from  toils  of  sense  — 
Was  wisest  stooping  to  tlie  weaker  heart ; 
And  so  the  feet  of  sweet  Yasodhara 
Passed  into  peace  and  bliss,  being  softly  led." 

But  when  the  King  heard  how  Siddartha  came 
Shorn,  with  the  mendicant's  sad-colored  cloth, 
And  stretching  out  a  bowl  to  gather  orts 
From  base-boms'  leavings,  wrathful  sorrow  drove 
Love  from  his  heart.     Thrice  on  the  ground  he  spat, 
Plucked  at  his  silvered  beard,  and  strode  straight  forth 
Lackeyed  by  trembling  lords.     Frowning  he  clomb 
Upon  his  war-horse,  drove  the  spurs,  and  dashed. 
Angered,  through  wondering  streets  and  lanes  of  folk, 
Scarce  finding  breath  to  say,  "  The  King  !  bow  down  !  " 
Ere  the  loud  cavalcade  had  clattered  by  : 
Which  —  at  the  turning  by  the  Temple-wall 
Where  the  south  gate  was  seen  —  encountered  full 
A  mighty  crowd  ;  to  every  edge  of  it 
Poured  fast  more  people,  till  the  roads  were  lost. 


202  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Blotted  by  that  huge  company  which  thronged 
And  grew,  close  following  him  whose  look  serene 
Met  the  old  King's.     Nor  lived  the  father's  wrath 
Longer  than  while  the  gentle  eyes  of  Buddh 
Lingered  in  worship  on  his  troubled  brows, 
Then  downcast  sank,  with  his  true  knee,  to  earth 
In  proud  humility.     So  dear  it  seemed 
To  see  the  Prince,  to  know  him  whole,  to  mark 
That  glory  greater  than  of  earthly  state 
Crowning  his  head,  that  majesty  which  brought 
All  men,  so  awed  and  silent,  in  his  steps. 
Nathless  the  King  broke  forth,  "  Ends  it  in  this 
That  great  Siddartha  steals  into  his  realm. 
Wrapped  in  a  clout,  shorn,  sandalled,  craving  food 
Of  low-borns,  he  whose  life  was  as  a  God's  ? 
My  son  !  heir  of  this  spacious  power,  and  heir 
Of  Kings  who  did  but  clap  their  palms  to  have 
What  earth  could  give  or  eager  service  bring? 
Thou  should'st  have  come  apparelled  in  thy  rank, 
With  shining  spears  and  tramp  of  horse  and  foot. 


BOOK   THE   SEVENTH.  20J 

Lo  !  all  my  soldiers  camped  upon  the  road, 

And  all  my  city  waited  at  the  gates  ; 

Where  hast  thou  sojourned  through  these  evil  years 

Whilst  thy  crowned  father  mourned  ?  and  she,  too,  there 

Lived  as  the  widows  use,  foregoing  joys  ; 

Never  once  hearing  sound  of  song  or  string. 

Nor  wearing  once  the  festal  robe,  till  now 

When  in  her  cloth  of  gold  she  welcomes  home 

A  beggar  spouse  in  yellow  remnants  clad. 

Son  !  why  is  this?" 

"  My  Father  !  "  came  reply, 
"  It  is  the  custom  of  my  race." 

"  Thy  race," 
Answered  the  King  "  counteth  a  hundred  thrones 
From  Maha  Sammat,  but  no  deed  like  this." 

"  Not  of  a  mortal  line,"  the  Master  said, 
"  I  spake,  but  of  descent  invisible, 
The  Buddhas  who  have  been  and  who  shall  be  : 
Of  these  am  I,  and  what  they  did  I  do, 


204  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

And  this  which  now  befalls  so  fell  before 

That  at  his  gate  a  King  in  warrior-mail 

Should  meet  his  son,  a  Prince  in  hermit-weeds  ; 

And  that,  by  love  and  self-control,  being  more 

Than  mightiest  Kings  in  all  their  puissance, 

The  appointed  Helper  of  the  Worlds  should  bow  — 

As  now  do  I  —  and  with  all  lowly  love 

Proffer,  where  it  is  owed  for  tender  debts, 

The  first-fruits  of  the  treasure  he  hath  brought ; 

Which  now  I  proffer." 

Then  the  King  amazed 
Inquired  "What  treasure?"  and  the  Teacher  took 
Meekly  the  royal  palm,  and  while  they  paced 
Through  worshipping  streets  —  the  Princess  and  the  King 
On  either  side  —  he  told  the  things  which  make 
For  peace  and  pureness,  those  Four  noble  Truths 
Which  hold  all  wisdom  as  shores  shut  the  seas, 
Those  eight  right  Rules  whereby  who  will  may  walk  — 
Monarch  or  slave — upon  the  perfect  Path 
That  hath  its  Stages  Four  and  Precepts  Eight, 


BOOK    THE    SEVENTH.  205 

Whereby  whoso  will  live  —  mighty  or  mean 
Wise  or  unlearned,  man,  woman,  young  or  old  — 
Shall  soon  or  late  break  from  the  wheels  of  Ufe 
Attaining  blest  Nirvana.     So  they  came 
Into  the  Palace-porch,  Suddhodana 
With  brows  unknit  drinking  the  mighty  words, 
And  in  his  own  hand  carrying  Buddha's  bowl, 
Whilst  a  new  light  brightened  the  lovely  eyes 
Of  sweet  Yasodhara  and  sunned  her  tears ; 
And  that  night  entered  they  the  Way  of  Peace. 


Book  ti^e  eifljjtf). 


A  BROAD  mead  spreads  by  swift  Kohana's  bank 

At  Nagara ;  five  days  shall  bring  a  man 

In  ox-wain  thither  from  Benares'  shrines 

Eastward  and  northward  journeying.     The  horns 

Of  white  Himala  look  upon  the  place, 

Which  all  the  year  is  glad  with  blooms  and  girt 

By  groves  made  green  from  that  bright  streamlet's  wave. 

Soft  are  its  slopes  and  cool  its  fragrant  shades, 

And  holy  all  the  spirit  of  the  spot 

Unto  this  time  :  the  breath  of  eve  comes  hushed 

Over  the  tangled  thickets,  and  high  heaps 

Of  carved  red  stones  cloven  by  root  and  stem 

Of  creeping  fig,  and  clad  with  waving  veil 

Of  leaf  and  grass.     The  still  snake  glistens  forth 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  20/ 

From  crumbled  work  of  lac  and  cedar-beams 
To  coil  his  folds  there  on  deep-graven  slabs ; 
The  lizard  dwells  and  darts  o'er  painted  floors 
Where  Kings  have  paced ;  the  grey  fox  litters  safe 
Under  the  broken  thrones  ;  only  the  peaks, 
And  stream,  and  sloping  lawns,  and  gentle  airs 
Abide  unchanged.     All  else,  like  all  fair  shows 
Of  life,  are  fled  —  for  this  is  where  it  stood, 
The  city  of  Suddhodana,  the  hill 
Whereon,  upon  an  eve  of  gold  and  blue 
At  sinking  sun  Lord  Buddha  set  himself 
To  teach  the  Law  in  hearing  of  his  own. 

Lo  !  ye  shall  read  it  in  the  Sacred  Books 
.  How,  being  met  in  that  glad  pleasaunce-place  — 
A  garden  in  old  days  with  hanging  walks, 
Fountains,  and  tanks,  and  rose-banked  terraces 
Girdled  by  gay  pavilions  and  the  sweep 
Of  stately  palace-fronts  —  tlic  Master  sate 
Eminent,  worshipped,  all  the  earnest  throng 


208  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Catching  the  opening  of  his  lips  to  learn 
That  wisdom  which  hath  made  our  Asia  mild ; 
Whereto  four  hundred  crores  of  living  souls 
Witness  this  day.     Upon  the  King's  right  hand 
He  sate,  and  round  were  ranged  the  Sakya  Lords 
Ananda,  Devadatta  —  all  the  Court. 
Behind  stood  Seriyut  and  Mugallan,  chiefs 
Of  the  calm  brethren  in  the  yellow  garb, 
A  goodly  company.     Between  his  knees 
Rahula  smiled  with  wondering  childish  eyes 
Bent  on  the  awful  face,  while  at  his  feet 
Sate  sweet  Yasodhara,  her  heartaches  gone, 
Foreseeing  that  fair  love  which  doth  not  feed 
On  fleeting  sense,  that  life  which  knows  no  age, 
That  blessed  last  of  deaths  when  Death  is  dead, 
His  victory  and  hers.     Wherefore  she  laid 
Her  hand  upon  his  hands,  folding  around 
Her  silver  shoulder-cloth  his  yellow  robe, 
Nearest  in  all  the  world  to  him  whose  words 
The  Three  Worlds  waited  for.     I  cannot  tell 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  2O9 

A  small  part  of  the  splendid  lore  which  broke 

From  Buddha's  lips  :  I  am  a  late-come  scribe 

Who  love  the  Master  and  his  love  of  men, 

And  tell  this  legend,  knowing  he  was  wise, 

But  have  not  wit  to  speak  beyond  the  books ; 

And  time  hath  blurred  their  script  and  ancient  sense, 

Which  once  was  new  and  mighty,  moving  all. 

A  little  of  that  large  discourse  I  know 

Which  Buddha  spake  on  the  soft  Indian  eve. 

Also  I  know  it  writ  that  they  who  heard 

Were  more  —  lakhs  more  —  crores  more  —  than  could  be 

seen. 
For  all  the  Devas  and  the  Dead  thronged  there. 
Till  Heaven  was  emptied  to  the  seventh  zone 
And  uttermost  dark  Hells  opened  their  bars ; 
Also  the  daylight  lingered  past  its  time 
In  rose-leaf  radiance  on  the  watching  peaks. 
So  that  it  seemed  Night  listened  in  the  glens 
And  Noon  upon  the  mountains  ;  yea  !  they  write, 
The  evening  stood  between  them  like  some  maid 

14 


210  THE    LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Celestial,  love-struck,  rapt ;  the  smooth-rolled  clouds 

Her  braided  hair ;  the  studded  stars  the  pearls 

And  diamonds  of  her  coronal ;  the  moon 

Her  forehead -jewel,  and  the  deepening  dark 

Her  woven  garments.     'Twas  her  close-held  breath 

Which  came  in  scented  sighs  across  the  lawns 

While  our  Lord  taught,  and,  while  he  taught,  who  heard  ■ 

Though  he  were  stranger  in  the  land,  or  slave, 

High  caste  or  low,  come  of  the  Aryan  blood, 

Or  Mlech  or  Jungle-dweller  —  seemed  to  hear 

What  tongue  his  fellows  talked.     Nay,  outside  those 

Who  crowded  by  the  river,  great  and  small. 

The  birds  and  beasts  and  creeping  things  —  'tis  writ  — 

Had  sense  of  Buddha's  vast  embracing  love 

And  took  the  promise  of  his  piteous  speech ; 

So  that  their  lives  —  prisoned  in  shape  of  ape, 

Tiger,  or  deer,  shagged  bear,  jackal,  or  wolf. 

Foul-feeding  kite,  pearled  dove,  or  peacock  gemmed. 

Squat  toad,  or  speckled  serpent,  lizard,  bat ; 

Yea,  or  of  fish  fanning  the  river-waves  — 


BOOK   THE   EIGHTH.  211 

Touched  meekly  at  the  skirts  of  brotherhood 
With  man  who  hath  less  innocence  than  these ; 
And  in  mute  gladness  knew  their  bondage  broke 
Whilst  Buddha  spake  these  things  before  the  King  :  — 


oJ<«c 


Om,  amitaya  !  measure  not  with  words 

Th'  Immeasurable  :  nor  sink  the  string  of  thought 
Into  the  Fathomless.     Who  asks  doth  err, 

Who  answers,  errs.     Say  nought ! 


The  Books  teach  Darkness  was,  at  first  of  all. 
And  Brahm,  sole  meditating  in  that  Night : 

Look  not  for  Brahm  and  the  Beginning  there  ! 
Nor  him,  nor  any  light 


Shall  any  gazer  see  with  mortal  eyes, 
Or  any  searcher  know  by  mortal  mind, 

Veil  after  veil  will  lift  —  but  there  must  be 
Veil  upon  veil  behind. 


212  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Stars  sweep  and  question  not.     This  is  enough 
That  life  and  death  and  joy  and  woe  abide  ; 

And  cause  and  sequence,  and  the  course  of  time, 
And  Being's  ceaseless  tide, 

Which,  ever-changing,  runs,  linked  like  a  river 
By  ripples  following  ripples,  fast  or  slow  — 

The  same  yet  not  the  same  —  from  far-off  fountain 
To  where  its  waters  flow 

Into  the  seas.    These,  steaming  to  the  Sun, 
Give  the  lost  wavelets  back  in  cloudy  fleece 

To  trickle  down  the  hills,  and  glide  again ; 
Having  no  pause  or  peace. 

This  is  enough  to  know,  the  phantasms  are  ; 

The  Heavens,  Earths,  Worlds,  and  changes  changing 
them 
A  mighty  whirling  wheel  of  strife  and  stress 

Which  none  can  stay  or  stem. 

Pray  not  !  the  Darkness  will  not  brighten  !  Ask 
Nought  from  the  Silence,  for  it  cannot  speak  ! 

Vex  not  your  mournful  minds  with  pious  pains  ! 
Ah  !  Brothers,  Sisters  !  seek 


BOOK    THE   EIGHTH.  213 

Nought  from  the  helpless  gods  by  gift  and  hymn, 
Nor  bribe  with  blood,  nor  feed  with  fruit  and  cakes ; 

Within  yourselves  deliverance  must  be  sought ; 
Each  man  his  prison  makes. 

Each  hath  such  lordship  as  the  loftiest  ones ; 

Nay,  for  with  Powers  above,  around,  below, 
As  with  all  flesh  and  whatsoever  lives, 

Act  maketh  joy  and  woe. 

What  hath  been  bringeth  what  shall  be,  and  is. 
Worse  —  better  —  last  for  first  and  first  for  last ; 

The  Angels  in  the  Heavens  of  Gladness  reap 
Fruits  of  a  holy  past. 

The  devils  in  the  underworlds  wear  out 

Deeds  that  were  wicked  in  an  age  gone  by. 

Nothing  endures :  fair  virtues  waste  with  time, 
Foul  sins  grow  purged  thereby. 

Who  toiled  a  slave  may  come  anew  a  Prince 

For  gentle  worthiness  and  merit  won  ; 
Who  ruled  a  King  may  wander  earth  in  rags 

For  things  done  and  undone. 


214  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Higher  than  Indra's  ye  may  lift  your  lot, 
And  sink  it  lower  than  the  worm  or  gnat ; 

The  end  of  many  myriad  lives  is  this, 
The  end  of  myriads  that. 

Only,  while  turns  this  wheel  invisible, 

No  pause,  no  peace,  no  staying-place  can  be ; 

Who  mounts  will  fall,  who  falls  may  mount ;  the  spokes 
Go  round  unceasingly ! 


If  ye  lay  bound  upon  the  wheel  of  change, 
And  no  way  were  of  breaking  from  the  chain, 

The  Heart  of  boundless  Being  is  a  curse. 
The  Soul  of  Things  fell  Pain. 

Ye  are  not  bound  !  the  Soul  of  Things  is  sweet. 
The  Heart  of  Being  is  celestial  rest ; 

Stronger  than  woe  is  will :  that  which  was  Good 
Doth  pass  to  Better  —  Best. 


BOOK   THE    EIGHTH.  215 

I,  Buddh,  who  wept  with  all  my  brothers'  tears, 
Whose  heart  was  broken  by  a  whole  world's  woe, 

Laugh  and  am  glad,  for  there  is  Liberty  ! 
Ho  !  ye  who  suffer  !  know 

Ye  suffer  from  yourselves.     None  else  compels, 
None  other  holds  you  that  ye  live  and  die. 

And  whirl  upon  the  wheel,  and  hug  and  kiss 
Its  spokes  of  agony. 

Its  tire  of  tears,  its  nave  of  nothingness. 

Behold,  I  show  you  Truth  !     Lower  than  hell, 
Higher  than  heaven,  outside  the  utmost  stars. 

Farther  than  Brahm  doth  dwell. 

Before  beginning,  and  without  an  end, 

As  space  eternal  and  as  surety  sure. 
Is  fixed  a  Power  divine  which  moves  to  good, 

Only  its  laws  endure. 

This  is  its  touch  upon  the  blossomed  rose. 
The  fashion  of  its  hand  shaped  lotus-leaves ; 

In  dark  soil  and  the  silence  of  the  seeds 
The  robe  of  Spring  it  weaves  ; 


2l6  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

That  is  its  painting  on  the  glorious  clouds, 

And  these  its  emeralds  on  the  peacock's  train ; 

It  hath  its  stations  in  the  stars ;  its  slaves 
In  lightning,  wind,  and  rain. 

Out  of  the  dark  it  wrought  the  heart  of  man, 
Out  of  dull  shells  the  pheasant's  pencilled  neck ; 

Ever  at  toil,  it  brings  to  loveliness 
All  ancient  wrath  and  wreck. 

The  grey  eggs  in  the  golden  sun-bird's  nest 
Its  treasures  are,  the  bees'  six-sided  cell 

Its  honey-pot ;  the  ant  wots  of  its  ways. 
The  white  doves  know  them  well. 

It  spreadeth  forth  for  flight  the  eagle's  wings 
What  time  she  beareth  home  her  prey ;  it  sends 

The  she-wolf  to  her  cubs  ;  for  unloved  things 
It  findeth  food  and  friends. 

It  is  not  marred  nor  stayed  in  any  use. 
All  liketh  it ;  the  sweet  white  milk  it  brings 

To  mothers'  breasts ;  it  brings  the  white  drops,  too, 
Wherewith  the  young  snake  stings. 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  21/ 

The  ordered  music  of  the  marching  orbs 

It  makes  in  viewless  canopy  of  sky  ; 
In  deep  abyss  of  earth  it  hides  up  gold, 

Sards,  sapphires,  lazuli. 

Ever  and  ever  bringing  secrets  forth, 

It  sitteth  in  the  green  of  forest-glades 
Nursing  strange  seedlings  at  the  cedar's  root. 

Devising  leaves,  blooms,  blades. 

It  slayeth  and  it  saveth,  nowise  moved 

Except  unto  the  working  out  of  doom ; 
Its  threads  are  Love  and  Life ;  and  Death  and  Pain 

The  shuttles  of  its  loom. 

It  maketh  and  unmaketh,  mending  all ; 

What  it  hath  wrought  is  better  than  hath  been ; 
Slow  grows  the  splendid  pattern  that  it  plans 

Its  wistful  hands  between. 

This  is  its  work  upon  the  things  ye  see. 

The  unseen  things  are  more  ;  men's  hearts  and  minds. 
The  thoughts  of  peoples  and  their  ways  and  wills. 

Those,  too,  the  great  Law  binds. 


2l8  THE   LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Unseen  it  helpeth  ye  with  faithful  hands, 

Unheard  it  speaketh  stronger  than  the  storm. 

Pity  and  Love  are  man's  because  long  stress 
Moulded  blind  mass  to  form. 

It  will  not  be  contemned  of  any  one ; 

Who  thwarts  it  loses,  and  who  serves  it  gains ; 
The  hidden  good  it  pays  with  peace  and  bliss, 

The  hidden  ill  with  pains. 

It  seeth  everywhere  and  marketh  all : 

Do  right  —  it  recompenseth  !  do  one  wrong  — 
The  equal  retribution  must  be  made. 

Though  Dharma  tarry  long. 

It  knows  not  wrath  nor  pardon ;  utter-true 

Its  measures  mete,  its  fauldess  balance  weighs  ; 

Times  are  as  nought,  to-morrow  it  will  judge, 
Or  after  many  days. 

By  this  the  slayer's  knife  did  stab  himself; 

The  unjust  judge  hath  lost  his  own  defender ; 
The  false  tongue  dooms  its  lie  ;  the  creeping  tliief 

And  spoiler  rob,  to  render. 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  2ig 

Such  is  the  Law  which  moves  to  righteousness, 
WTiich  none  at  last  can  turn  aside  or  stay ; 

The  heart  of  it  is  Love,  the  end  of  it 

Is  Peace  and  Consummation  sweet.    Obey  ! 


The  Books  say  well,  my  Brothers  !  each  man's  life 
The  outcome  of  his  former  living  is ; 

The  bygone  wrongs  bring  forth  sorrows  and  woes 
The  bygone  right  breeds  bliss. 

That  which  ye  sow  ye  reap.     Sec  yonder  fields  ! 

The  sesamum  was  sesamum,  the  corn 
Was  corn.     The  Silence  and  the  Darkness  knew  ! 

So  is  a  man's  fate  born. 

He  Cometh,  reaper  of  the  things  he  sowed, 
Sesamum,  corn,  so  much  cast  in  past  birth ; 

And  so  much  weed  and  poison-stufT,  which  mar 
Him  and  the  aching  earth. 


220  THE   LIGHT    OF   ASIA. 

If  he  shall  labor  rightly,  rooting  these, 

And  planting  wholesome  seedlings  where  they  grew, 
Fruitful  and  fair  and  clean  the  ground  shall  be, 

And  rich  the  harvest  due. 

If  he  who  liveth,  learning  whence  woe  springs, 

Endureth  patiently,  striving  to  pay 
His  utmost  debt  for  ancient  evils  done 

In  Love  and  Truth  alway ; 

If  making  none  to  lack,  he  throughly  purge 
The  lie  and  lust  of  self  forth  from  his  blood ; 

Suffering  all  meekly,  rendering  for  offence 
Nothing  but  grace  and  good : 

If  he  shall  day  by  day  dwell  merciful. 

Holy  and  just  and  kind  and  true  ;  and  rend 

Desire  from  where  it  clings  with  bleeding  roots. 
Till  love  of  life  have  end  : 

He  —  dying  —  leaveth  as  the  sum  of  him 

A  life-count  closed,  whose  ills  are  dead  and  quit, 

Whose  good  is  quick  and  mighty,  far  and  near, 
So  that  fruits  follow  it. 


BOOK   THE   EIGHTH.  221 

No  need  hath  such  to  live  as  ye  name  life  ;  ( 

That  which  began  in  him  when  he  began  _  ^ 

Is  finished  :  he  hath  wrought  the  purpose  through 
Of  what  did  make  him  Man. 

Never  shall  yearnings  torture  him,  nor  sins 
Stain  him,  nor  ache  of  earthly  joys  and  woes 

Invade  his  safe  eternal  peace  ;  nor  deaths 
And  lives  recur.     He  goes 

Unto  Nirvana.     He  is  one  with  Life 

Yet  lives  not.     He  is  blest,  ceasing  to  be. 

Om,  MANX  PADME,  CM  !  the  Dewdrop  slips 
Into  the  shining  sea  ! 


This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Karma.     Learn  ! 

Only  when  all  the  dross  of  sin  is  quit. 
Only  when  life  dies  like  a  white  flame  spent 

Death  dies  along  with  it. 


222  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Say  not  "  I  am,"  "  I  was,"  or  ''  I  shall  be," 

Think  not  ye  pass  from  house  to  house  of  flesh 

Like  travellers  who  remember  and  forget. 
Ill-lodged  or  well-lodged.     Fresh 

Issues  upon  the  Universe  that  sum 
Which  is  the  lattermost  of  lives.     It  makes 

Its  habitation  as  the  worm  spins  silk 
And  dwells  therein.     It  takes 

Function  and  substance  as  the  snake's  egg  hatched 
Takes  scale  and  fang ;  as  feathered  reed-seeds  fly 

O'er  rock  and  loam  and  sand,  until  they  find 
Their  marsh  and  multiply. 

Also  It  issues  forth  to  help  or  hurt. 

When  Death  the  bitter  murderer  doth  smite, 
Red  roams  the  unpurgcd  fragment  of  him,  driven 

On  wings  of  plague  and  blight. 

But  when  the  mild  and  just  die,  sweet  airs  breathe ; 

The  world  grows  richer,  as  if  desert-stream 
Should  sink  away  to  sparkle  up  again 

Purer,  with  broader  gleam. 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.      .  223 

So  merit  won  winneth  the  happier  age 

Which  by  demerit  halteth  short  of  end  ; 
Yet  must  this  Law  of  Love  reign  King  of  all 

Before  the  Kalpas  end. 

What  lets?  —  Brothers  !  the  Darkness  lets  !  which  breeds 
Ignorance,  mazed  whereby  ye  take'  these  shows 

For  true,  and  thirst  to  have,  and,  having,  cling 
To  lusts  which  work  you  woes. 

Ye  that  will  tread  the  Middle  Road,  whose  course 
Bright  Reason  traces  and  soft  Quiet  smoothes ; 

Ye  who  will  take  the  high  Nirvana-way 
List  the  Four  Noble  Truths. 

The  First  Truth  is  of  Sorrow.     Be  not  mocked  ! 

Life  which  ye  prize  is  long-drawn  agony  : 
Only  its  pains  abide  ;  its  pleasures  are 

As  birds  which  light  and  fly. 

Ache  of  the  birth,  ache  of  the  helpless  days. 

Ache  of  hot  youth  and  ache  of  manhood's  prime  ; 

Ache  of  the  chill  grey  years  and  choking  death. 
These  fill  your  piteous  time. 


224  THE    LIGHT    OF   ASIA. 

Sweet  is  fond  Love,  but  funeral-flames  must  kiss 
The  breasts  which  pillow  and  the  lips  which  cling ; 

Gallant  is  warlike  Might,  but  vultures  pick 
The  joints  of  chiefs  and  Kings. 

Beauteous  is  Earth,  but  all  its  forest-broods 
Plot  mutual  slaughter,  hungering  to  live  ; 

Of  sapphire  are  the  skies,  but  when  men  cry 
Famished,  no  drops  they  give. 

Ask  of  the  sick,  the  mourners,  ask  of  him 
Who  tottereth  on  his  staff,  lone  and  forlorn, 

"  Liketh  thee  life?  " — these  say  the  babe  is  wise 
That  weepeth,  being  born. 

The  Second  Truth  is  Sorrow's  Cause.     What  grief 
Springs  of  itself  and  springs  not  of  Desire  ? 

Senses  and  things  perceived  mingle  and  light 
Passion's  quick  spark  of  fire  : 

So  flameth  Trishna,  lust  and  thirst  of  things. 

Eager  ye  cleave  to  shadows,  dote  on  dreams  ; 
A  false  Self  in  the  midst  ye  plant,  and  make 

A  world  around  which  seems ; 


BOOK    THE   EIGHTH.  225 

Blind  to  the  height  beyond,  deaf  to  the  sound 
Of  sweet  airs  breathed  from  far  past  Indra's  sky ; 

Dumb  to  the  summons  of  the  true  life  kept 
For  him  who  false  puts  by. 

So  grow  the  strifes  and  lusts  which  make  earth's  war. 
So  grieve  poor  cheated  hearts  and  flow  salt  tears ; 

So  wax  the  passions,  envies,  angers,  hates ; 
So  years  chase  blood-stained  years 

With  wild  red  feet.     So,  where  the  grain  should  grow. 

Spreads  the  biran-weed  with  its  evil  root 
And  poisonous  blossoms  ;  hardly  good  seeds  find 

Soil  where  to  fall  and  shoot ; 

And  drugged  with  poisonous  drink  the  soul  departs, 
And  fierce  with  thirst  to  drink  Karma  returns  ; 

Sense-struck  again  the  sodden  self  begins. 
And  new  deceits  it  earns. 

The  Third  is  Sorrow's  Ceasing.     This  is  peace 

To  conquer  love  of  self  and  lust  of  life. 
To  tear  deep-rooted  passion  from  the  breast, 

To  still  the  inward  strife  ; 


226  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

For  love  to  clasp  Eternal  Beauty  close ; 

For  glory  to  be  Lord  of  self,  for  pleasure 
To  live  beyond  the  gods  ;  for  countless  wealth 

To  lay  up  lasting  treasure 

1  Of  perfect  service  rendered,  duties  done 
In  charity,  soft  speech,  and  stainless  days : 

These  riches  shall  not  fade  away  in  life. 
Nor  any  death  dispraise. 

Then  Sorrow  ends,  for  Life  and  Death  have  ceased ; 

How  should  lamps  flicker  when  their  oil  is  spent  ? 
The  old  sad  count  is  clear,  the  new  is  clean ; 

Thus  hath  a  man  content. 


The  Fourth  Truth  is  The  Way.     It  opeireth  wide, 
Plain  for  all  feet  to  tread,  easy  and  near. 

The  Noble  Eightfold  Path  ;  it  goeth  straight 
To  peace  and  refuge.     Hear  ! 


BOOK    THE   EIGHTH.  22/ 

Manifold  tracks  lead  to  yon  sister-peaks 

Around  whose  snows  the  gilded  clouds  are  curled ; 

By  steep  or  gentle  slopes  the  climber  comes 
Where  breaks  that  other  world. 

Strong  limbs  may  dare  the  rugged  road  which  storms, 
Soaring  and  perilous,  the  mountain's  breast ; 

The  weak  must  wind  from  slower  ledge  to  ledge 
With  many  a  place  of  rest. 

So  is  the  Eightfold  Path  which  brings  to  peace ; 

By  lower  or  by  upper  heights  it  goes. 
The  firm  soul  hastes,  the  feeble  tarries.     All 

Will  reach  the  sunlit  snows. 

The  First  good  Level  is  Right  Doctrine,     Walk 
In  fear  of  Dharma,  shunning  all  offence  ; 

In  heed  of  Karma,  which  doth  make  man's  fate  ; 
In  lordship  over  sense. 

The  Second  is  Right  Purpose.     Have  good-will 

To  all  that  lives,  letting  unkindness  die 
And  greed  and  wrath  ;  so  that  your  lives  be  made 

Like  soft  airs  passing  by. 


228  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  Third  is  Right  Discourse.     Govern  the  lips 
As  they  were  palace-doors,  the  King  within  ; 

Tranquil  and  fair  and  courteous  be  all  words 
Which  from  that  presence  win. 


The  Fourth  is  Right  Behavior.     Let  each  act 
Assoil  a  fault  or  help  a  merit  grow  : 

Like  threads  of  silver  seen  through  crystal  beads 
Let  love  through  good  deeds  show. 


Four  higher  roadways  be.     Only  those  feet 

May  tread  them  which  have  done  with  earthly  things ; 

Right  Purity,  Right  Thought,  Right  Loneliness, 
Right  Rapture.     Spread  no  wings 

For  sunward  flight,  thou  soul  with  unplumed  vans  ! 

Sweet  is  the  lower  air  and  safe,  and  known 
The  homely  levels  :  only  strong  ones  leave 

The  nest  each  makes  his  own. 

Dear  is  the  love,  I  know,  of  Wife  and  Child ; 

Pleasant  the  friends  and  pastimes  of  your  years ; 
Fruitful  of  good  Life's  gentle  charities ; 

False,  though  firm-set,  its  fears. 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  229 

Live  —  ye  who  must  —  such  hves  as  live  on  these  ; 

Make  golden  stair-ways  of  your  weakness ;  rise 
By  daily  sojourn  with  those  phantasies 

To  lovelier  verities. 

So  shall  ye  pass  to  clearer  heights  and  find 

Easier  ascents  and  lighter  loads  of  sins, 
And  larger  will  to  burst  the  bonds  of  sense, 

Entering  the  Path.     Who  wins 

To  such  commencement  hath  the  First  Stage  touched  ; 

He  knows  the  Noble  Truths,  the  Eightfold  Road ; 
By  few  or  many  steps  such  shall  attain 

Nirvana's  blest  abode. 

Who  standeth  at  the  Second  Stage,  made  free 
From  doubts,  delusions,  and  the  inward  strife, 

Lord  of  all  lusts,  quit  of  the  priests  and  books, 
Shall  live  but  one  more  life. 

Yet  onward  lies  the  Third  Stage :  purged  and  pure 
Hath  grown  the  stately  spirit  here,  hath  risen 

To  love  all  living  things  in  perfect  peace. 
His  life  at  end,  life's  prison 


230  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA. 

Is  broken.     Nay,  there  are  who  surely  pass 

Living  and  visible  to  utmost  goal 
By  Fourth  Stage  of  the  Holy  ones  —  the  Buddhs  — 

And  they  of  stainless  soul. 

Lo  !  like  fierce  foes  slain  by  some  warrior, 
Ten  sins  along  these  Stages  He  in  dust, 

The  Love  of  Self,  False  Faith,  and  Doubt  are  three. 
Two  more,  Hatred  and  Lust. 

Who  of  these  Five  is  conqueror  hath  trod 
Three  stages  out  of  Four  :  yet  there  abide 

The  Love  of  Life  on  earth.  Desire  for  Heaven, 
Self- Praise,  Error,  and  Pride. 

As  one  who  stands  on  yonder  snowy  horn 

Having  nought  o'er  him  but  the  boundless  blue. 

So,  these  sins  being  slain,  the  man  is  come 
Nirvana's  verge  unto. 

Him  the  Gods  envy  from  their  lower  seats ; 

Him  the  Three  Worlds  in  ruin  should  not  shake  ; 
All  life  is  hved  for  him,  all  deaths  are  dead ; 

Karma  will  no  more  make 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  23 1 

New  houses.     Seeking  nothing,  he  gains  all ; 

Foregoing  self,  the  Universe  grows  "  I  "  : 
If  any  teach  NIRVANA  is  to  cease, 

Say  unto  such  they  lie. 

If  any  teach  NIRVANA  is  to  live, 

Say  unto  such  they  err ;  not  knowing  this. 

Nor  what  light  shines  beyond  their  broken  lamps, 
Nor  hfeless,  timeless  bliss. 

Enter  the  Path  !     There  is  no  grief  like  Hate  ! 

No  pains  like  passions,  no  deceit  like  sense  !      "• 
Enter  the  Path  !  far  hath  he  gone  whose  foot 

Treads  down  one  fond  offence. 

Enter  the  Path  !    There  spring  the  healing  streams 
Quenching  all  thirst !  there  bloom  th'  immortal  flowers 

Carpeting  all  the  way  with  joy  !  there  throng 
Swiftest  and  sweetest  hours  ! 


232  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

More  is  the  treasure  of  the  Law  than  gems ; 

Sweeter  than  comb  its  sweetness  ;  its  delights 
Delightful  past  compare.     Thereby  to  live 

Hear  the  Five  Rules  aright :  — 

Kill  not  —  for  Pity's  sake  —  and  lest  ye  slay 
The  meanest  thing  upon  its  upward  way. 

Give  freely  and  receive,  but  take  from  none 
By  greed,  or  force  or  fraud,  what  is  his  own. 

Bear  not  false  witness,  slander  not,  nor  lie  ; 
Truth  is  the  speech  of  inward  purity. 

Shun  drugs  and  drinks  which  work  the  wit  abuse  ; 
Clear  minds,  clean  bodies,  need  no  Soma  juice. 

Touch  not  thy  neighbor's  wife,  neither  commit 
Sins  of  the  flesh  unlawful  and  unfit. 


-OOj^OO- 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  233 

These  words  the  Master  spake  of  duties  due 

To  father,  mother,  children,  fellows,  friends ; 

Teaching  how  such  as  may  not  swiftly  break 

The  clinging  chains  of  sense  —  whose  feet  are  weak 

To  tread  the  higher  road  —  should  order  so 

This  life  of  flesh  that  all  their  hither  days 

Pass  blameless  in  discharge  of  charities 

And  first  true  footfalls  in  the  Eightfold  Path ; 

Living  pure,  reverent,  patient,  pitiful. 

Loving  all  things  which  live  even  as  themselves ; 

Because  what  falls  for  ill  is  fruit  of  ill 

Wrought  in  the  past,  and  what  falls  well  of  good ; 

And  that  by  howsomuch  the  householder 

Purgeth  himself  of  self  and  helps  the  world, 

By  so  much  happier  comes  he  to  next  stage. 

In  so  much  bettered  being.     This  he  spake. 

As  also  long  before,  when  our  Lord  walked 

By  Rajagriha  in  the  bamboo-grove  : 

For  on  a  dawn  he  walked  there  and  beheld 

The  householder  Singala,  newly  bathed, 


234  THE   LIGHT   OF   ASIA, 

Bowing  himself  with  bare  head  to  the  earth, 

To  Heaven,  and  all  four  quarters ;  while  he  threw 

Rice,  red  and  white,  from  both  hands.     "  Wherefore  thus 

Bowest  thou.  Brother?  "  said  the  Lord ;  and  he, 

"  It  is  the  way,  Great  Sir  !  our  fathers  taught 

At  every  dawn,  before  the  toil  begins. 

To  hold  off  evil  from  the  sky  above 

And  earth  beneath,  and  all  the  winds  which  blow." 

Then  the  World-honored  spake  :  "  Scatter  not  rice, 

But  offer  loving  thoughts  and  acts  to  all. 

To  parents  as  the  East  where  rises  light ; 

To  teachers  as  the  South  whence  rich  gifts  come  ; 

To  wife  and  children  as  the  West  where  gleam 

Colors  of  love  and  calm,  and  all  days  end ; 

To  friends  and  kinsmen  and  all  men  as  North  ; 

To  humblest  living  things  beneath,  to  Saints 

And  Angels  and  the  blessed  Dead  above  : 

So  shall  all  evil  be  shut  off,  and  so 

The  six  main  quarters  will  be  safely  kept." 


BOOK   THE   EIGHTH.  235 

But  to  his  o^vn,  them  of  the  yellow  robe  — 
They  who,  as  wakened  eagles,  soar  with  scorn 
From  life's  low  vale,  and  wing  towards  the  Sun  — 
To  these  he  taught  the  Ten  Observances 
The  Dasa-Sil,  and  how  a  mendicant 
Must  know  the  Three  Doors  and  the  Triple  Thoughts ; 
The  Sixfold  States  of  Mind;  the  Fivefold  Powers  ; 
The  Eight  High  Gates  of  Purity ;  the  Modes 
Of  Understa?idiTig ;  Iddhi  ;   Upekshd  ; 
The  Five  Great  Meditations,  which  are  food 
Sweeter  than  Amrit  for  the  holy  soul ; 
The  yhdnd's  and  the  Three  Chief  Refuges. 
Also  he  taught  his  own  how  they  should  dwell ; 
How  live,  free  from  the  snares  of  love  and  wealth ; 
What  eat  and  drink  and  carry  —  three  plain  cloths,  — 
Yellow,  of  stitched  stuff,  worn  with  shoulder  bare  — 
A  girdle,  almsbowl,  strainer.     Thus  he  laid 
The  great  foundations  of  our  Sangha  well. 
That  noble  Order  of  the  Yellow  Robe 
Which  to  this  day  standeth  to  help  the  World. 


236  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

So  all  that  night  he  spake,  teaching  the  Law  : 
And  on  no  eyes  fell  sleep  —  for  they  who  heard 
Rejoiced  with  tireless  joy.     Also  the  King, 
When  this  was  finished,  rose  upon  his  throne 
And  with  bared  feet  bowed  low  before  his  Son 
Kissing  his  hem  ;  and  said,  "  Take  me,  O  Son  ! 
Lowest  and  least  of  all  thy  Company." 
And  sweet  Yasodhara,  all  happy  now,  — 
Cried  "  Give  to  Rahula  —  thou  Blessed  One  ! 
The  Treasure  of  the  Kingdom  of  thy  Word 
For  his  inheritance."     Thus  passed  these  Three 
Into  the  Path. 

——OO^^OC 


Here  endeth  what  I  write 
Who  love  the  Master  for  his  love  of  us. 
A  little  knowing,  little  have  I  told 
Touching  the  Teacher  and  the  Ways  of  Peace. 
Forty-five  rains  thereafter  showed  he  those 


BOOK    THE    EIGHTH.  237 

In  many  lands  and  many  tongues  and  gave 
Our  Asia  light,  that  still  is  beautiful, 
Conquering  the  world  with  spirit  of  strong  grace  : 
All  which  is  written  in  the  holy  Books, 
And  where  he  passed  and  what  proud  Emperors 
Carved  his  sweet  words  upon  the  rocks  and  caves  : 
And  how  —  in  fulness  of  the  times  —  it  fell 
The  Buddha  died,  the  great  Tathagato, 
Even  as  a  man  'mongst  men,  fulfilling  all : 
And  how  a  thousand  thousand  crores  since  then 
Have  trod  the  Path  which  leads  whither  he  went 
Unto  Nirvana  where  the  Silence  lives. 

ooJOJoo 


Ah  !  Blessed  Lord  !  Oh,  High  Deliverer  ! 
Forgive  this  feeble  script,  which  doth  thee  wrong. 
Measuring  with  little  wit  thy  lofty  Love. 
Ah  !  Lover  !  Brother  !  Guide  !  Lamp  of  the  Law  ! 
I  take  my  refuge  in  thy  name  and  thee  ! 


238  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

I   TAKE   MY   REFUGE   IN  THY    LaW   OF   GOOD  ! 
I   TAKE   MY   REFUGE    IN   THY    OrDER  !    OM ! 

The  Dew  is  on  the  lotus  !  —  rise,  Great  Sun  ! 
And  lift  my  leaf  and  mix  me  with  the  wave. 
Om  mani  padme  hum,  the  Sunrise  comes  ! 
The  Dewdrop  slips  into  the  shining  Sea  ! 


THE   END. 


NOTICES 


OF 


THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA." 


Rev.  Wm.  H.  Channing,  London. 
^Extract  from  a  Letter  to  a  Friend  in  Concord,  Mass^ 

"  The  Light  of  Asia"  is  a  poem  in  which  the  effort  is  made 
to  bring  before  our  modern  age,  in  the  Western  world,  that 
sublime  embodiment  of  the  finest  genius  of  the  Orient,  in 
its  prime,  whom  we  call  Buddha,  in  I ivi?ig  form,  diXid  to 
sketch  this  outline  of  his  speculative  and  ethical  systems  in 
vivid  pictorial  representation.  And  marvellously  successful 
has  the  effort  of  the  poet  proved.  Those  who  are  most 
familiar  with  the  semi-historical,  semi-legendary  biographies 
of  Prince  Siddartha  Gautama,  will  be  the  most  prompt 
to  admit  that  never  has  the  image  of  the  serene  and 
heroic,  saintly  and  gentle  sage  been  more  beautifully  por- 
trayed than  in  this  poem  ;  and  from  infancy,  through  youth 
and  manhood,  to  his  new  birth  in  extreme  age,  his  whale 
growth  towards  perfection  is  so  glowingly  brought  before 
tlie  reader,  that  he  feels  as  if  lifted  into  personal  communion 
with  this  grand  and  lovely  teacher  of  the  "  Way  to  Peace." 
Buddha  lives  and  moves  and  speaks  again  in  these  pao-es, 
as  he  lived  and  moved  and  taught  amid  the  sacred  groves  of 
India. 


2  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

But  one  of  the  chief  charms  of  the  poem  is  the  singularly 
vital  reality  with  which  the  very  scenery  and  climate,  the 
people  and  the  communities,  the  manners,  dwellings,  and 
actual  society  of  Hindostan,  two  thousand  years  or  more  ago, 
is  made  to  pass,  as  if  m palijigiuesia,  before  and  around  us. 
The  long-buried  past  is  reanimated  at  the  poet's  touch.  And 
from  the  midst  of  the  rush  and  turmoil  of  our  resdess  modern 
age  we  enter,  behind  a  lifted  veil,  into  the  tranquil  stillness, 
calm  dignity,  and  meditative  quiet  of  the  East,  as  if  from 
sultry,  dusty,  summer  noon  we  could  bathe  our  fevered  brows  in 
the  fresh,  sweet,  dewy  air  of  a  spring  morning.  And  the  con- 
trast rejuvenates  our  fagged  and  weary  powers  delightfully. 

One  is  the  more  surprised,  in  reading  this  poem,  to  learn 
that  the  writer  has  created  this  lovely  work  of  art,  not  in  the 
stilness  of  a  country  solitude,  nor  amid  the  cloistered  aisles 
of  universities,  but  right  in  the  throng  and  uproar  of  this 
bustling  metropolis.  For  the  poet  is  one  of  the  most  inde- 
fatigable editors  of  the  daily  press  in  London,  and  every 
morning,  week  in,  week  out,  addresses  the  largest  circle  of 
readers  approached  by  any  writer  of  "  leaders "  in  Great 
Britain,  or  probably  in  Christendom  ;  for  Edwin  Arnold  is 
editor-in-chief  of  the  Daily  Telegraph,  which  has  an  aver- 
age circulation  of  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  copies,  with  prob- 
ably four  readers  a  copy.  And  certainly  no  editor  writes  on 
a  wider  range  of  topics,  political,  social,  scientific,  &c.  That, 
amidst  the  responsibilities,  interruptions,  anxieties,  harass- 
ing cares,  and  ever-varying  distractions  of  such  a  life,  a  poet 
could  evoke,  in  his  few  hours  for  quiet  thought,  an  epic  in 
eight  books,  on  one  of  the  loftiest  themes  for  spiritual  con- 
temi)lation,  and  one  of  the  purest  ideal  types  of  a  heavenly 
human  life  known  in  history,  is  certainly  a  surprising  instance 
of  concentrated  power.  Within  my  experience,  or  my  ac- 
quaintance with  literary  efforts,  no  greater  success  of  this 
kind   has  been  attained  ;  for  to  my  certain  knowledge  this 


NOTICES.  3 

book  was  only  conceived  and  begun  last  September,  and  has 
been  perfected  and  published  in  one  of  the  most  disturbed 
and  trying  periods  that  this  nation  has  passed  througli  for  this 
generation  at  least. 

This  effort,  indeed,  has  been  a  labor  of  love,  and  so  a  rest 
and  refreshment  to  the  poet  ;  for  Edwin  Arnold  is  an  impas- 
sioned lover  of  India,  and  has  for  years  been  a  loving  admirer  of 
Buddha.  So  the  poem  wrote  itself  out  of  his  memory  and  im- 
agination. Trained  at  Oxford,  where  he  won  honors  as  a  classic, 
and  gained  the  Newdigate  Prize  for  Poetry,  after  publishing  a 
small  volume  of  poems,  Mr.  Arnold  went  in  early  life  to  Hin- 
dostan,  where  he  was  appointed  as  Principal  of  the  Deccan 
College  at  Poona.  Here  he  resided  for  seven  years,  acquiring 
a  knowledge  of  the  Sanscrit  and  other  Indian  languages,  and 
translating  the  very  interesting  "Book  of  Good  Counsels,'' 
the  "  Hitopordesa,"  which  has  long  been  a  valued  text-book  for 
Sanscrit  scholars,  as  it  is  accompanied  with  an  interlinear 
text  and  vocabulary,  &c.  In  India  he  became  the  friend  of 
Lord  Dalhousie,  John  Lawrence  (the  saviour  of  the  Punjaub, 
afterward  Lord  Lawrence),  and  other  leading  statesmen  ;  and 
was  on  the  road  to  preferment  when  he  was  compelled  to 
leave  his  much-loved  India  by  the  deatii  of  a  child  and  the 
illness  of  his  young  wife.  After  his  return,  he  wrote  and 
published,  in  two  volumes,  an  important  and  instructive 
"  History  of  Lord  Dalhousie's  Administration,"  and  printed 
another  volume  of  poems,  and  a  translation  of  one  of  the 
books  of  Herodotus.  Becoming  then  engaged  as  a  sub-editor 
in  the  Telegraph,  where  during  our  civil  war  he  defended 
the  cause  of  freedom  and  confidently  predicted  the  triumph 
of  the  Republic,  he  gradually  rose  to  higher  influence,  until, 
after  the  death  of  Thornton  Hunt,  he  was  advanced  to  the 
responsible  post  of  editor-in-chief,  and  has  become  greatly 
distinguished  as  a  writer  of  powerful  "leaders."  But  amidst 
his  incessant  toil,  he  has  still  found  leisure  for  literary  work, 


4  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

having  translated  a  volume  of  the  poets  of  Greece,  accom- 
panied by  biographical  and  critical  notices,  and  an  exqui- 
sitely beautiful  version  of  the  "  Indian  Song  of  Songs,"  —  one 
of  the  most  characteristic  productions  of  Hindoo  literature. 
And  now,  at  length,  he  has  found  a  fit  sphere  for  his  poetic 
genius  in  this  representation  of  Buddha,  in  which  he  has 
embodied  his  own  highest  ideals  and  aspirations. 

In  speaking  thus  warmly,  and  enthusiastically  even,  of  this 
poem,  it  is  nowise  my  wish  or  end  to  indorse  Mr.  Arnold's 
view  of  Buddha  and  his  system  ;  for,  in  several  very  im- 
portant and  even  essential  points  my  estimate  of  Gau- 
tama differs  very  widely  from  the  poet's,  both  as  to  the 
character  of  the  Man,  and  ihe  principles  and  tendency  of\\\?, 
philosophical  and  moral  System.  But  Goethe's  prime  rule  of 
criticism  has  long  been  my  guide,  —  "  Before  passing  judg- 
ment on  a  book,  a  work  of  art,  a  scheme  of  doctrine,  or  a 
person,  first  give  yourself  up  to  a  sympathetic  appreciation 
of  them."  Now  Mr.  Arnold  has  conceived  and  composed 
his  poem  as  a  Hindoo  Buddhist.  In  that  spirit  let  this 
beautiful  book  be  read,  —  and  theti  criticised. 


Dr.  Ripley,  in  the  New  York  Tribune. 

The  fruits  of  an  earnest  study  of  Oriental  literature  and 
of  a  personal  residence  of  several  years  in  India  are  embod- 
ied in  this  stately  poetical  romance.  From  the  dim  and  shad- 
owy legends  of  the  princely  founder  of  the  great  religion  of 
the  East,  scanly  and  uncertain  as  they  prove  to  be  under  the 
hand  of  critical  research,  Mr.  Arnold  has  constructed  a 
poem,  which  for  afHuence  of  imagination,  splendor  of 
diction,  and  virile  descriptive  power,  will  not  be  easily 
matched  among  the  most  remarkable  productions  in  tlie  lit- 
erature of  the  day.     His  starting-point  is  the  historical  im- 


NOTICES.  5 

portance  of  the  Buddhist  faith,  which  has  existed  during 
twenty-four  centuries,  and  now  surpasses  in  the  number  of  its 
followers  and  the  extent  of  its  prevalence  any  other  form  of 
religious  belief.  Not  less  than  four  hundred  and  seventy 
millions  of  our  race  live  and  die  in  the  tenets  of  Gautama. 
His  spiritual  dominions  at  the  present  time  reach  from 
Nepaul  and  Ceylon  over  the  whole  Eastern  Peninsula  to 
China,  Japan,  Thibet,  Central  Asia,  Siberia,  and  even  Swed- 
ish Lapland.  "  More  than  a  third  of  mankind,  therefore," 
Mr.  Arnold  remarks,  "  owe  their  moral  and  religious  ideas  to 
this  illustrious  Prince,  whose  personality,  tliough  imperfectly 
revealed  in  the  existing  sources  of  information,  cannot  but 
appear  the  highest,  gentlest,  holiest,  and  most  beneficent, 
with  one  exception,  in  the  history  of  Thought."  Not  a  single 
act  or  word  is  recorded  "  which  mars  the  perfect  purity  and 
tenderness  of  this  Indian  teacher,  who  united  the  truest 
princely  qualities  with  the  intellect  of  a  sage  and  the  passion- 
ate devotion  of  a  martyr." 

The  author  has  put  his  poem  into  the  mouth  of  an  Indian 
Buddhist,  because  the  spirit  of  Asiatic  thought  must  be  re- 
garded from  an  Oriental  point  of  view,  in  order  to  gain  a  cor- 
rect appreciation  of  its  significance.  Alter  relating  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  the  birth  of  Prince  Siddartha  (known 
as  the  founder  of  a  religion  by  the  name  of  Buddha),  the 
poet  i)roceeds  to  describe  his  education  under  the  discipline 
provitied  by  his  wise  and  liberal  father,  who  spared  none  of 
the  resources  of  an  Oriental  monarchy  for  the  training  and 
culture  of  the  youthful  Prince.  He  early  displayed  a  pre- 
cocity of  intellect  and  character,  which  surpassed  the  highest 
skill  of  his  teachers,  and  presaged  a  future  of  marvellous 
import :  — 

Which  reverence 
Lord  Buddha  kept  to  all  his  schoolmasters, 
Albeit  beyond  their  learning  taught ;  in  speech 


6  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

Right  gentle,  yet  so  wise  ;  princely  of  mien, 

Yet  softly-mannered  ;  modest,  deferent, 

And  tender-hearted,  though  of  fearless  blood  ; 

No  bolder  horseman  in  the  youthful  band 

E'er  rode  in  gay  chase  of  the  shy  gazelles  ; 

No  keener  driver  of  the  chariot 

In  mimic  contests  scoured  the  Palace-courts  ; 

Yet  in  mid-play  the  boy  would  ofttimes  pause, 

Letting  the  deer  pass  free  ;  would  ofttimes  yield 

His  half-won  race  because  the  laboring  steeds 

Fetched  painful  breath  ;  or  if  his  princely  mates 

Saddened  to  lose,  or  if  some  wistful  dream 

Swept  o'er  his  thoughts.     And  ever  with  the  years 

Waxed  this  compassionateness  of  our  Lord, 

Even  as  a  great  tree  grows  from  two  soft  leaves 

To  spread  its  shade  afar  ;  but  hardly  yet 

Knew  the  young  child  of  sorrow,  pain,  or  tears. 

Save  as  strange  names  for  things  not  felt  by  kings, 

Nor  ever  to  be  felt. 

The  poet  tlien  relates  an  instance  illustrating  the  early 
development  of  the  "quality  of  mercy"  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Prince.  It  happened  one  vernal  day  that  a  wild  swan  was 
shot  by  an  idle  courtier  as  the  flock  flew  near  the  palace, 
and  the  wounded  bird  fell  into  the  hands  of  Siddartha.  As 
he  soothed  the  frightened,  fluttering  bird  with  tender  touch, 
and  drew  the  arrow  from  its  side,  he  pressed  the  barb  into 
liis  own  wrist  to  make  trial  of  the  pain  :  • — • 

Then  some  one  came  who  said,  "  My  Prince  hath  shot 
A  swan,  which  fell  among  the  roses  here. 
He  bids  me  pray  you  send  it.     Will  you  send  .'' " 
"Nay,"  quoth  Siddartha,  "  if  the  bird  were  dead 
To  send  it  to  the  slayer  might  be  well. 
But  the  swan  lives  ;  my  cousin  hath  but  killed 
The  god-like  speed  which  throbbed  in  this  white  wing." 
And  Devadatta  answered,  "The  wild  thing, 


NOTICES.  7 

Living  or  dead,  is  his  who  fetched  it  down  ; 

'T  was  no  man's  in  the  clouds,  but  fall'n  't  is  mine, 

Give  me  my  prize,  fair  Cousin."     Then  our  Lord 

Laid  the  swan's  neck  beside  his  own  smooth  cheek 

And  gravely  spake,  "  Say  no  !  the  bird  is  mine, 

The  first  of  myriad  things  which  shall  be  mine 

By  right  of  mercy  and  love's  lordliness. 

For  now  I  know,  by  what  within  me  stirs, 

That  I  shall  teach  compassion  unto  men 

And  be  a  speechless  world's  interpreter, 

Abating  this  accursed  flood  of  woe. 

Not  man's  alone,  but  if  the  Prince  disputes. 

Let  him  submit  this  matter  to  the  wise 

And  we  will  wait  their  word."     So  was  it  done ; 

In  full  divan  the  business  had  debate. 

And  many  thought  this  thing  and  many  that, 

Till  there  arose  an  unknown  priest  who  said, 

"  If  life  be  aught,  the  saviour  of  a  life 

Owns  more  the  living  thing  than  he  can  own 

Who  sought  to  slay  —  the  slayer  spoils  and  wastes. 

The  cherishcr  sustains,  give  him  the  bird  "  ; 

Which  judgment  all  found  just ;  but  when  the  King 

Sought  out  the  sage  for  honor,  he  was  gone  ; 

And  some  one  saw  a  hooded  snake  glide  forth,  — 

The  gods  come  ofttimes  thus  !    So  our  Lord  Buddh 

Began  his  works  of  mercy. 

His  experience  of  human  sufFerinc;  upon  a  visit  with  his 
father  to  different  scenes  in  the  royal  domain,  is  jjreatly  en- 
larged by  the  suggestive  spectacle,  and  a  fresh  impulse  is  given 
to  his  already  deep  sympathy  with  the  woes  of  his  kind  :  — 

On  another  day,  the  King  said,  "  Come, 

Sweet  son  !  and  see  the  plcasaunce  of  the  Spring, 

And  how  the  fruitful  earth  is  wooed  to  yield 

Its  riches  to  the  reaper  ;  how  my  realm  — 

Which  shall  be  thine  when  the  pile  ll.inics  fur  me  — 


8  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA, 

Feeds  all  its  mouths  and  keeps  the  King's  chest  filled. 

Fair  is  the  season  with  new  leaves,  bright  blooms, 

Green  grass,  and  cries  of  plough-time."     So  they  rode 

Into  a  land  of  wells  and  gardens,  where, 

All  up  and  down  the  rich  red  loam,  the  steers 

Strained  their  strong  shoulders  in  the  creaking  yoke 

Dragging  the  ploughs  ;  the  fat  soil  rose  and  rolled 

In  smooth  dark  waves  back  from  the  plough ;  who  drove 

Planted  both  feet  upon  the  leaping  share 

To  make  the  furrow  deep  ;  among  the  palms 

The  tinkle  of  the  rippling  water  rang, 

And  where  it  ran  the  glad  earth  'broidered  it 

With  balsams  and  the  spears  of  lemon-grass. 

Elsewhere  were  sowers  who  went  forth  to  sow  ; 

And  all  the  jungle  laughed  with  nesting-songs, 

And  all  the  thickets  rustled  with  small  life 

Of  lizard,  bee,  beetle,  and  creeping  things 

Pleased  at  the  Spring-time.     In  the  mango-sprays 

The  sun-birds  flashed  ;  alone  at  his  green  forge 

Toiled  the  loud  coppersmith  ;  bee-eaters  hawked 

Chasing  the  purple  butterflies  ;  beneath. 

Striped  squirrels  raced,  the  mynas  perked  and  picked, 

The  nine  brown  sisters  chattered  in  the  thorn, 

The  pied  fish-tiger  hung  above  the  pool. 

The  egrets  stalked  among  the  buffaloes, 

The  kites  sailed  circles  in  the  golden  air  ; 

About  the  painted  temple  peacocks  flew. 

The  blue  doves  cooed  from  every  well,  far  off 

The  village  drums  beat  for  some  marriage-feast ; 

All  things  spoke  peace  and  plenty,  and  the  Prince 

Saw  and  rejoiced.     But,  looking  deep,  he  saw 

The  thorns  which  grow  upon  tliis  rose  of  life  : 

How  the  swart  peasant  sweated  for  his  wage, 

Toiling  for  leave  to  live  ;  and  how  he  urged 

The  grcat-cyed  oxen  through  the  flaming  hours, 

Goading  their  velvet  flanks  :  then  marked  he,  too, 


NOTICES.  9 

How  lizard  fed  on  ant,  and  snake  on  him, 

And  kite  on  both  ;  and  how  the  fish-hawk  robbed 

The  fish-tiger  of  that  which  it  had  seized  ; 

The  shrike  chasing  the  bulbul,  which  did  chase 

The  jewelled  butterflies  ;  till  everywhere 

Each  slew  a  slayer  and  in  turn  was  slain. 

Life  living  upon  death.     So  the  fair  show 

Veiled  one  vast,  savage,  grim  conspiracy 

Of  mutual  murder,  from  the  worm  to  man. 

Who  himself  kills  his  fellow  ;  seeing  which  — 

The  hungry  ploughman  and  his  laboring  kine, 

Their  dewlaps  blistered  with  the  bitter  yoke, 

The  rage  to  live  which  makes  all  living  strife  — 

The  Prince  Siddartha  sighed.     "  Is  this,"  he  said, 

"  That  happy  earth  they  brought  me  forth  to  see  ? 

How  salt  with  sweat  the  peasant's  bread  !  how  hard 

The  oxen's  service  !  in  the  brake  how  fierce 

The  war  of  weak  and  strong  !  i'  th'  air  what  plots  ! 

No  refuge  e'en  in  water.     Go  aside 

A  space,  and  let  me  muse  on  what  ye  show." 

So  saying,  the  good  Lord  Buddha  seated  him 

Under  a  jambu-tree,  with  ankles  crossed, — 

As  holy  statues  sit,  — and  first  began 

To  meditate  this  deep  disease  of  life. 

What  its  far  source  and  whence  its  remedy. 

So  vast  a  pity  filled  him,  such  wide  love 

For  living  things,  such  passion  to  heal  pain. 

That  by  their  stress  his  princely  spirit  passed 

To  ecstasy,  and,  purged  from  mortal  taint 

Of  sense  and  self,  the  boy  attained  thereat 

Dhyana,  first  step  of  "  the  path." 

Upon  the  attainment  of  his  eighteenth  year  by  the  Prince, 
three  sumptuous  palaces  were  built  by  command  of  his  father, 
surrounded  with  delicious  blooming  gardens,  diversified  with 
sportive  streams  and  odorous  thickets,  in  which  Siddarlha 
strayed  at  will,  with  a  new  pleasure  for  every  hour.     The  l.ul 


lO  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

was  happy,  life  was  rich,  and  his  youthful  blood  moved 
quickly  in  his  veins  :  — 

Yet  still  came 
The  shadows  of  his  meditation  back, 
As  the  lake's  silver  dulls  with  driving  clouds. 

The  heart  of  the  King  was  troubled  at  these  signs,  and  he 
consulted  his  ministers  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  with 
the  son,  dearer  to  him  than  his  heart's  blood,  and  destined  to 
trample  on  the  neck  of  all  his  enemies,  in  the  sway  of  uni- 
versal dominion.  A  shrewd  old  fox  among  the  counsellors 
recommended  the  power  of  love  as  the  cure  for  the  wayward- 
ness of  the  boy :  — 

"  Find  him  soft  wives  and  pretty  playfellows, 
Eyes  that  make  heaven  forget,  and  lips  of  balm." 

The  King  feared  lest  the  dainty  boy  should  not  find  a  wife 
to  his  mind,  if  permitted  to  range  the  garden  of  Beauty  at 
will,  and  accepted  the  advice  of  another  counsellor  that  a  fes- 
tival should  be  appointed  in  which  the  maids  of  the  realm 
should  contend  for  the  palm  of  youth  and  grace  :  — 

"  Let  the  Prince  give  the  prizes  to  the  fair, 
And,  when  the  lovely  victors  pass  his  seat. 
There  shall  be  those  who  mark  if  one  or  two 
Change  the  fixed  sadness  of  his  tender  cheek ; 
So  we  may  choose  for  Love  with  Love's  own  eyes, 
And  cheat  his  Highness  into  happiness." 
This  thing  seemed  good  ;  wherefore  upon  a  day 
The  criers  bade  the  young  and  beautiful 
Pass  to  the  palace,  for  't  was  in  command 
To  hold  a  court  of  pleasure,  and  the  Prince 
Would  give  the  prizes,  something  rich  f(jr  all, 
The  richest  for  the  fairest  judged.     So  flocked 
Kapilavastu's  maidens  to  the  gate, 


NOTICES.  I  I 

Each  with  her  dark  hair  newly  smoothed  and  bound, 
Eyelashes  lustred  with  the  soorma-stick, 
Fresh-bathed  and  scented  ;  all  in  shawls  and  cloths 
Of  gayest  ;  slender  hands  and  feet  new-stained 
With  crimson,  and  the  tilka-spots  stamped  bright. 
Fair  show  it  was  of  all  those  Indian  girls 
Slow-pacing  past  the  throne  with  large  black  eyes 
Fixed  on  the  ground,  for  when  they  saw  the  Prince 
More  than  the  awe  of  Majesty  made  beat 
Their  fluttering  hearts,  he  sate  so  passionless, 
Gentle  but  so  beyond  them.     Each  maid  took 
With  down-dropped  lids  her  gift,  afraid  to  gaze ; 
And  if  the  people  hailed  some  lovelier  one, 
Beyond  her  rivals  worthy  royal  smiles. 
She  stood  like  a  scared  antelope  to  touch 
The  gracious  hand,  then  fled  to  join  her  mates 
Trembling  at  favor,  so  divine  he  seemed. 
So  high  and  saint-like  and  above  her  world. 
Thus  filed  they,  one  bright  maid  after  another, 
The  city's  flowers,  and  all  this  beauteous  march 
Was  ending  and  the  prizes  spent,  when  last 
Came  young  Yasodhara,  and  they  that  stood 
Nearest  Siddartha  saw  the  princely  boy 
Start,  as  the  radiant  girl  approached.     A  form 
Of  heavenly  mould  ;  a  gait  like  Parvati's  ; 
Eyes  like  a  hind's  in  love-time,  face  so  fair 
Words  cannot  paint  its  spell  ;  and  she  alone 
Gazed  full  —  folding  her  palms  across  her  breasts  — 
On  the  boy's  gaze,  her  stately  neck  unbent. 
"  Is  there  a  gift  for  me  ?  "  she  asked,  and  smiled. 
"  The  gifts  are  gone,"  the  Prince  replied,  "  yet  take 
This  for  amends,  dear  sister,  of  whose  grace 
Our  happy  city  boasts  ;  "  therewith  he  loosed 
The  emerald  necklet  from  his  throat,  and  clasped 
Its  green  beads  round  her  dark  and  silk-soft  waist; 
And  their  eyes  mixed,  and  from  the  look  sprang  love. 


12  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

The  King  determined  to  send  messengers  to  demand  the 
maiden  of  her  father  in  marriage  for  his  son  ;  but  it  was  the 
law  of  the  country  that,  when  any  one  aslced  a  maid  of  a  noble 
house,  he  should  make  good  his  claim  by  martial  and  athletic 
arts  against  all  challengers.  The  father  accordingly  replied 
that  his  child  was  sought  by  princes  far  and  near,  and  if  her 
lover  could  bend  the  bow,  or  wield  the  sword,  or  back  a  horse 
better  than  they,  it  would  be  the  best  thing  for  all ;  but  he 
was  afraid  that  such  a  cloistered  youth  would  have  no  chance 
in  so  grave  a  contest.  But  the  Prince  only  laughed  at  this, 
and  declared  that  he  was  ready  to  meet  all  comers  at  their 
chosen  games.  The  day  at  length  came,  and  Siddartha  won 
the  prize  at  shooting  with  the  bow,  and  cleaving  trees  with 
the  sword,  when  the  turn  came  for  the  trial  of  horseman- 
ship :  — 

Then  brought  they  steeds, 
High-mettled,  nobly  bred,  and  three  times  scoured 
Around  the  maidan,  but  white  Kantaka 
Left  even  the  fleetest  far  behind  — so  swift, 
That  ere  the  foam  fell  from  his  mouth  to  earth 
Twenty  spear-lengths  he  flew  ;  but  Nanda  said, 
"  We  too  might  win  with  such  as  Kantaka  ; 
Bring  an  unbroken  horse,  and  let  men  see 
Who  best  can  back  him."     So  the  syces  brought 
A  stallion  dark  as  night,  led  by  three  chains, 
Fierce-eyed,  with  nostrils  wide  and  tossmg  mane, 
Unshod,  unsaddled,  for  no  rider  yet 
Had  crossed  him.     Three  times  each  young  S&kya 
Sprang  to  his  mighty  back,  but  the  hot  steed 
Furiously  reared,  and  flung  them  to  the  plain 
In  dust  and  shame  ;  only  Ardjuna  held 
His  seat  awhile,  and,  bidding  loose  the  chains, 
Lashed  tlic  lilack  flank,  and  shook  the  bit,  and  held 
The  proud  jaws  fast  with  grasp  of  master-hand. 
So  that  in  storms  of  wrath  and  rage  and  fear 


NOTICES.  13 

The  savage  stallion  circled  once  the  plain 

Half-tamed  ;  but  sudden  turned  with  naked  teeth, 

Gripped  by  the  foot  Ardjuna,  tore  him  down, 

And  would  have  slain  him,  but  the  grooms  ran  in 

Fettering  the  maddened  beast.     Then  all  men  cried, 

"Let  not  Siddartha  meddle  with  this  Bhut, 

Whose  liver  is  a  tempest,  and  his  blood 

Red  flame  ; "  but  the  Prince  said,  "  Let  go  the  chains. 

Give  me  his  forelock  only,"  which  he  held 

With  quiet  grasp,  and,  speaking  some  low  word, 

Laid  his  right  palm  across  the  stallion's  eyes, 

And  drew  it  gently  down  the  angry  face, 

And  all  along  the  neck  and  panting  flanks, 

Till  men  astonished  saw  the  night-black  horse 

Sink  his  fierce  crest  and  stand  subdued  and  meek, 

As  though  he  knew  our  Lord  and  worshipped  him. 

Nor  stirred  he  while  Siddartha  mounted,  then 

Went  soberly  to  touch  of  knee  and  rein 

Before  all  eyes,  so  that  the  people  said, 

"  Strive  no  more,  for  Siddartha  is  the  best." 

The  maid  was  thus  given  to  the  Prince,  the  marriage- feast 
was  kept,  the  gifts  bestowed  on  holy  men,  the  alms  and 
temple-offerings  made,  and  the  garments  of  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  tied.  The  old  gray  father  spoke  to  the  Prince  to 
be  good  to  her  whose  life  was  now  to  be  only  in  him.  The 
sweet  Yasodhara  was  brought  home,  with  songs  and  trumpets, 
to  the  Prince's  arms,  and  "  Love  was  all  in  all "  :  — 

Yet  not  to  love 

Alone  trusted  the  King;  love's  prison-house 

Stately  and  beautiful  he  bade  them  build. 

So  that  in  all  the  earth  no  marvel  was 

Like  Vishramvan,  the  Prince's  pleasure-place. 

Midway  in  those  wide  palace-grounds  there  rose 

A  verdant  hill  whose  base  Rohini  bathed, 

Murmuring  adown  from  Ilimalay's  broad  feet, 


14  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

To  bear  its  tribute  into  Gunga's  waves. 

Southward  a  growth  of  tamarind-trees  and  sSl, 

Thick  set  with  pale  sky-colored  ganthi  flowers, 

Shut  out  the  world,  save  if  the  city's  hum 

Came  on  the  wind  no  harsher  than  when  bees 

Hum  out  of  sight  in  thickets.     Northwards  soared 

The  stainless  ramps  of  huge  Himala's  wall, 

Ranged  in  white  ranks  against  the  blue  —  untrod. 

Infinite,  wonderful  —  whose  uplands  vast. 

And  lifted  universe  of  crest  and  crag, 

Shoulder  and  shelf,  green  slope  and  icy  horn, 

Riven  ravine,  and  splintered  precipice 

Led  climbing  thought  higher  and  higher,  until 

It  seemed  to  stand  in  heaven  and  speak  with  gods. 

Beneath  the  snows  dark  forests  spread,  sharp  laced 

With  leaping  cataracts  and  veiled  with  clouds  : 

Lower  grew  rose-oaks  and  the  great  fir  groves 

Where  echoed  pheasant's  call  and  panther's  cry, 

Clatter  of  wild  sheep  on  the  stones,  and  scream 

Of  circling  eagles  :  under  these  the  plain 

Gleamed  like  a  praying-carpet  at  the  foot 

Of  those  divinest  altars.     Fronting  this 

The  builders  set  the  bright  pavilion  up. 

Fair-planted  on  the  terraced  hill,  with  towers 

On  either  flank  and  pillared  cloisters  round. 

Its  beams  were  carved  with  stories  of  old  time  — 

Radha  and  Krishna  and  the  sylvan  girls  — 

Sita  and  Ilanuman  and  Draupadi ; 

And  on  the  middle  porch  God  Ganesha, 

With  disc  and  hook  —  to  bring  wisdom  and  wealth - 

Propitious  sate,  wreathing  his  sidelong  trunk. 

By  winding  ways  of  garden  and  of  court 

The  inner  gate  was  reached,  of  marble  wrought, 

White  with  pink  veins  ;  the  lintel  lazuli. 

The  threshold  alabaster,  and  the  doors 

Sandal-wood,  cut  in  pictured  panelling ; 


NOTICES.  15 

Whereby  to  lofty  halls  and  shadowy  bowers 

Passed  the  delighted  foot,  on  stately  stairs, 

Through  latticed  galleries,  'neath  painted  roofs 

And  clustering  columns,  where  cool  fountains  —  fringed 

With  lotus  and  nelumbo  —  danced,  and  fish 

Gleamed  through  their  crystal,  scarlet,  gold,  and  blue. 

Great-eyed  gazelles  in  sunny  alcoves  browsed 

The  blown  red  roses  ;  birds  of  rainbow  wing 

Fluttered  among  the  palms  ;  doves,  green  and  gray, 

Built  their  safe  nests  on  gilded  cornices  ; 

Over  the  shining  pavements  peacocks  drew 

The  splendors  of  their  trains,  sedately  watched 

By  milk-white  herons  and  the  small  house-owls. 

The  plum-necked  parrots  swung  from  fruit  to  fruit ; 

The  yellow  sunbirds  whirred  from  bloom  to  bloom, 

The  timid  lizards  on  the  lattice  basked 

Fearless,  the  squirrels  ran  to  feed  from  hand. 

For  all  was  peace  :  the  shy  black  snake,  that  gives 

Fortune  to  households,  sunned  his  sleepy  coils 

Under  the  moon-flowers,  where  the  musk-deer  played, 

And  brown-eyed  monkeys  chattered  to  the  crows. 

And  all  this  house  of  love  was  peopled  fair 

With  sweet  attendance,  so  that  in  each  part 

With  lovely  sights  were  gentle  faces  found. 

Soft  speech  and  willing  service,  each  one  glad 

To  gladden,  pleased  at  pleasure,  proud  to  obey  ; 

Till  life  glided  beguiled,  like  a  smooth  stream 

Banked  by  perpetual  flow'rs,  Yasodhara 

Queen  of  the  enchanting  Court. 

The  interior  of  the  palace  is  described  as  the  scene  of 
Oriental  luxury  and  delight,  on  which  the  author  lavishes  all 
the  resources  of  his  art  to  present  the  strange  contrast  between 
the  effeminate  indulgences  of  Siddartha's  youth  and  the  sub- 
sequent austere,  lonely  years  of  preparation  in  which  ho 
receives  the  holy  anointing  as  a  chosen  prophet  of  hu- 
manity :  — 


l6  THE   LIGHT   OF    ASIA. 

But  innermost, 
Beyond  the  richness  of  those  hundred  halls, 
A  secret  chamber  lurked,  where  skill  had  spent 
All  lovely  fantasies  to  lull  the  mind. 
The  entrance  of  it  was  a  cloistered  square  — 
Roofed  by  the  sky,  and  in  the  midst  a  tank  — 
Of  milky  marble  built,  and  laid  with  slabs 
Of  milk-white  marble  ;  bordered  round  the  tank 
And  on  the  steps,  and  all  along  the  frieze 
With  tender  inlaid  work  of  agate-stones. 
Cool  as  to  tread  in  summer-time  on  snows 
It  was  to  loiter  there ;  the  sunbeams  dropped 
Their  gold,  and,  passing  into  porch  and  niche, 
Softened  to  shadows,  silvery,  pale,  and  dim, 
As  if  the  very  Day  paused  and  grew  Eve 
In  love  and  silence  at  that  bower's  gate  ; 
For  there  beyond  the  gate  the  chamber  was, 
Beautiful,  sweet ;  a  wonder  of  the  world  ! 
Soft  light  from  perfumed  lamps  through  windows  fell 
Of  nakre  and  stained  stars  of  lucent  film 
On  golden  cloths  outspread,  and  silken  beds, 
And  heavy  splendor  of  the  purdah's  fringe, 
Lifted  to  take  only  the  loveliest  in. 
Here,  whether  it  was  night  or  day  none  knew. 
For  always  streamed  that  softened  light,  more  bright 
Than  sunrise,  but  as  tender  as  the  eve's  ; 
And  always  breathed  sweet  airs,  more  joy-giving 
Than  morning's,  but  as  cool  as  midnight's  breath  ; 
And  night  and  day  lutes  sighed,  and  night  and  day 
Delicious  foods  were  spread,  and  dewy  fruits. 
Sherbets  new  chilled  with  snows  of  Mimalay, 
And  sweetmeats  made  of  subtle  daintiness. 
With  sweet  tree-milk  in  its  own  ivory  cup. 
And  night  and  day  served  there  a  chosen  band 
Of  nautch  girls,  cup-bearers,  and  cymballers, 
Delicate,  dark-browed  ministers  of  love, 


NOTICES.  17 

» 

Who  fanned  the  sleeping  eyes  of  the  happy  Prince, 

And  when  he  waked,  led  back  his  thoughts  to  b'liss 

With  music  whispering  through  the  blooms,  and  charm 

Of  amorous  songs  and  dreamy  dances,  linked 

By  chime  of  ankle-bells  and  wave  of  arms 

And  silver  vina-strings  ;  while  essences 

Of  musk  and  champak  and  the  blue  haze  spread 

From  burning  spices  soothed  his  soul  again 

To  drowse  by  sweet  Yasodhara  ;  and  thus 

Siddartha  lived  forgetting. 

But  no  enchantment  of  earth's  delights  could  stay  the 
soaring  spirit  which  sought  the  crown  of  renunciation,  the 
sacrifice  of  self  for  the  deliverance  of  the  race.  The  fated 
hour  of  consummation  now  struck.  Standing  by  the  couch  of 
his  sleeping  wife,  Siddartha  announces  his  resolution  :  — 

"I  will  depart,"  he  spake ;  "the  hour  is  come  ! 
Thy  tender  lips,  dear  sleeper,  summon  me 
To  that  which  saves  the  earth  but  sunders  us  ; 
And  in  the  silence  of  yon  sky  I  read 
My  fated  message  flashing.     Unto  this 
Came  I,  and  unto  this  all  nights  and  days 
Have  led  me  ;  for  I  will  not  have  that  crown 
Which  may  be  mine  :  I  lay  aside  those  realms 
Which  wait  the  gleaming  of  my  naked  sword  : 
My  chariot  shall  not  roll  with  bloody  wheels 
From  victory  to  victory,  till  earth 
Wears  the  red  record  of  my  name.     I  choose 
To  tread  its  paths  with  patient,  stainless  feet. 
Making  its  dust  my  bed,  its  loneliest  wastes 
My  dwelling,  and  its  meanest  things  my  mates : 
Clad  in  no  prouder  garb  than  outcasts  wear, 
Fed  with  no  meats  save  what  the  charitable 
Give  of  their  will,  sheltered  by  no  more  pomp 
Than  the  dim  cave  lends  or  the  jungle-bush. 


1 8  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

This  will  I  do  because  the  woful  cry 

Of  life  and  all  flesh  living  cometh  up 

Into  my  ears,  and  all  my  soul  is  full 

Of  pity  for  the  sickness  of  this  world  ; 

Which  I  will  heal,  if  healing  may  be  found 

By  uttermost  renouncing  and  strong  strife. 

For  which  of  all  the  great  and  lesser  Gods 

Have  power  or  pity  .'     Who  hath  seen  them  —  who  ? 

What  have  they  wrought  to  help  their  worshippers  ? 

How  hath  it  steaded  man  to  pray,  and  pay 

Tithes  of  the  corn  and  oil,  to  chant  the  charms, 

To  slay  the  shrieking  sacrifice,  to  rear 

The  stately  fane,  to  feed  the  priests,  and  call 

On  Vishnu,  Shiva,  Surya,  who  save 

None  — not  the  worthiest —  from  the  griefs  that  teach 

Those  litanies  of  flattery  and  fear 

Ascending  day  by  day,  like  wasted  smoke  ? 

If  one,  then,  being  great  and  fortunate, 

Rich,  dowered  with  health  and  ease,  from  birth  designed 

To  rule  —  if  he  would  rule  —a  King  of  kings  ; 

If  one,  not  tired  with  life's  long  day  but  glad 

I'  the  freshness  of  its  morning,  one  not  cloyed 

With  love's  delicious  feasts,  but  hungry  still ; 

If  one  not  worn  and  wrinkled,  sadly  sage. 

But  joyous  in  the  glory  and  the  grace 

That  mix  with  evils  here,  and  free  to  choose 

Earth's  loveliest  at  his  will  :  one  even  as  I, 

Who  ache  not,  lack  not,  grieve  not,  save  with  griefs 

Which  are  not  mine,  except  as  I  am  man  ;  — 

If  such  a  one,  having  so  much  to  give, 

Gave  all,  laying  it  down  for  love  of  men, 

And  thenceforth  spent  himself  to  search  for  truth, 

Wringing  the  secret  of  deliverance  forth, 

Whether  it  lurk  in  hells  or  hide  in  heavens, 

Or  hover,  unrevealed,  nigh  unto  all : 


NOTICES.  19 

Surely  at  last,  far  off,  sometime,  somewhere, 

The  veil  would  lift  for  his  deep-searching  eyes. 

The  road  would  open  for  his  painful  feet. 

That  should  be  won  for  which  he  lost  the  world, 

And  Death  might  find  him  conqueror  of  death. 

This  will  I  do,  who  have  a  realm  to  lose, 

Because  I  love  my  realm,  because  my  heart 

Beats  with  each  throb  of  all  the  hearts  that  ache. 

Known  and  unknown,  these  that  are  mine  and  those 

Which  shall  be  mine,  a  thousand  million  more 

Saved  by  this  sacifice  I  offer  now. 

Oh,  summoning  stars  !  I  come  !     Oh,  mournful  earth  ! 

For  thee  and  thine  I  lay  aside  my  youth, 

My  throne,  my  joys,  my  golden  days,  my  nights, 

My  happy  palace  —  and  thine  arms,  sweet  Queen  ! 

Harder  to  put  aside  than  all  the  rest ! 

Yet  thee,  too,  I  shall  save,  saving  this  earth  ; 

And  that  which  stirs  within  thy  tender  womb, 

My  child,  the  hidden  blossom  of  our  loves, 

Whom  if  I  wait  to  bless  my  mind  will  fail. 

Wife  !  child  !  father  !  and  people  !  ye  must  share 

A  little  while  the  anguish  of  this  hour 

That  light  may  break  and  all  flesh  learn  the  Law. 

Now  am  I  fixed,  and  now  I  will  depart. 

Never  to  come  again  till  what  I  seek 

Be  found  —  if  fervent  search  and  strife  avail." 

We  need  cull  no  further  specimens  from  this  rich  Oriental 
flower-garden  to  show  that  Mr.  Arnold  has  presented  the 
world  with  a  poem  equally  striking  for  the  novelty  of  its  con- 
ception, its  vigor  of  execution,  and  the  exquisite  beauty  of 
its  descriptive  passages.  The  originality  of  its  p]n.n  is  fully 
sustained  by  its  power  of  invention,  splendor  of  coloring,  and 
force  of  illustration.  Mr.  Arnold's  imaginative  gifts  are  com- 
bined with  a  singularly  acute  historical  sense,  and  a  rare 
perception    of   the   music  of  rhythmical  harmonies  and  the 


20  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

curious  significance  of  a  felicitous  phrase.  Nor  is  his  poem 
to  be  regarded  merely  in  the  light  of  imagination  or  history. 
It  forms  a  grave  ethical  treatise,  shadowing  forth  in  the 
legendary  life  of  Siddartha  some  of  the  deepest  mysteries  and 
loftiest  experiences  of  the  human  soul.  The  great  doctrine 
of  renunciation,  so  earnestly  insisted  on  by  Goethe  and  Carlyle, 
is  in  fact  the  key-note  of  the  poem,  and  the  evolution  of 
character  from  an  exclusive  devotion  to  self  to  a  tender 
charity  for  our  kind,  which  is  so  lucidly  set  forth  in  the  phi- 
losophy of  Herbert  Spencer,  is  illustrated  with  all  the  charms 
of  a  fascinating  narrative  and  the  enchantments  of  melodious 
verse.  As  an  exposition  of  the  religious  system  of  Buddha 
we  reckon  this  poem  as  no  more  successful  than  the  numer- 
ous similar  attempts  in  prose.  We  have  no  sufficient  data 
for  the  solution  of  the  problem.  But  as  a  magnificent  work 
of  imagination,  and  a  sublime  appeal  in  the  interests  of  the 
loftiest  human  virtue,  we  tender  it  the  sincerest  welcome,  and 
grasp  the  author  by  the  hand  as  a  genuine  prophet  of  the 
soul. 


Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  in  the  Infcrnatmial  Review. 

.  .  .  For  it  is  a  work  of  great  beauty.  It  tells  a  story  of 
intense  interest,  which  never  flags  for  a  moment;  its  descrip- 
tions are  drawn  by  the  hand  of  a  master  wilh  the  eye  of  a 
poet  and  the  familiarity  of  an  expert  with  the  objects  de- 
scribed; its  tone  is  so  lofty  that  there  is  nothing  with  which 
to  compare  it  but  the  New  Testament:  it  is  full  of  variety, 
now  picturesque,  now  pathetic,  now  rising:  into  the  noblest 
realms  of  thought  and  aspiration  ;  it  finds  language  ])ene!trat- 
ing,  fluent,  elevated,  impassioned,  musical  always,  to  clothe 
its  varied  thoughts  and  sentiments.     Nor  is  this  surprising 


NOTICES.  21 

when  we  remember  that  the  religion  which  is  its  inspiration  is 
that  of  so  many  millions  and  so  many  ages,  finding  expres- 
sion in  the  language  of  a  scholar  and  a  poet.  We  do  not 
wonder  at  the  volume  and  might  of  Niagara  when  we  remem- 
ber that  it  drains  half  a  continent.  Criticism  stands  humbled 
be''ore  the  records  in  which  "  the  litanies  of  nations  "  have 
made  themselves  immortal.  The  critic's  work  is  too  much 
like  that  of  the  guide  showing  off  the  great  cataract  to  a  stran- 
ger. He  can  commend  or  find  fault  with  the  paths  and  the 
bridges  that  lead  to  the  best  views,  but  Niagara  is  not  in  need 
of  his  adjectives  or  exclamations. 

We  are  most  of  us  a  little  less  learned  than  we  occasion- 
ally allow  ourselves  to  be  considered  by  our  passive  acquies- 
cence in  imputed  knowledge,  — by  signs  of  intelligence  when 
Sanchoniathon,  Manetho,  and  Berosus  are  referred  to  as  au- 
thors with  whom  we  are  on  familiar  terms.  In  point  of  fact 
we  do  not,  most  of  us,  know  any  more  about  —  we  will  say  — 
Silius  Italicus,  than  by  their  own  confession  the  Edinburgh 
Reviewers  did  who  took  their  motto  from  him.  It  may  be 
feared  that  it  is  not  much  better  as  regards  our  acquaintance 
with  the  learning  of  the  East.  There  is  evidently  a  great 
deal  which  surprises  the  Europeans  and  Americans  who 
come  in  contact  with  Oriental  civilization.  "  Do  you  want 
to  know  what  China  is  ?  "  said  the  late  Mr.  Burlingame  to  the 
present  writer.  "  There  are  twenty  thousand  Ralph  Waldo 
Emersons  in  China."  The  Minister  to  the  Flowery  Empire 
meant  to  compliment  our  American  i)hiloso])her  in  this  hyper- 
bole, as  well  as  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  intellectual  cultiva- 
tion of  the  strange  race  among  whom  he  had  just  been  living. 
It  may  fairly  l)e  presumed  that  many  readers,  not  without 
training  in  the  humanities,  will  find  in  "The  Light  of  Asia  " 
their  first  introduction  to  the  non-biblical  literature  of  the 
morning  realm  where  the  race  found  its  cradle  and  where  it 
still  looks  for  its  altars. 


22  THE    LIGHT    OF    ASIA. 

One  fear  the  reader  may  be  assured  is  groundless,  —  that 
of  finding  the  poem  before  him  dull.  Dulness  is  apt  to  be  an 
infirmity  of  religious  poems.  One  would  have  hardly  thought 
Dante  could  be  reproached  for  such  a  failing  by  a  great 
brother-poet  but  Goethe  is  said  to  have  told  a  young  Italian 
that  he  thought  the  "  Inferno  "  abominable,  the  "  Purgatorio  " 
doubtful,  and  the  "  Paradiso  "  tiresome.  As  to  "  Paradise 
Lost,"  we  all  know  very  well  that  it  is  read  for  its  characters 
and  noble  passages  rather  than  for  its  narrative.  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  the  Divina  Commedia  of  Protestantism,  is  prob- 
ably the  only  religious  poem  —  for  it  is  a  poem  in  all  but 
versification  —  which  is  read  through  like  a  novel  by  those 
\i\\o  take  it  up   for  the  first  time. 

It  is  obvious  that  Mr.  Arnold  was  singularly  well  fitted  for 
the  task  he  undertook.  He  has  been  long  known  as  a  writer 
of  graceful  verse,  a  translator  from  Sanscrit  and  other  lan- 
guages ;  and  as  connected  with  the  Deccan  College  and  the 
University  of  Bombay  has  naturally  become  familiar  with  the 
internal  as  well  as  the  external  life  of  India. 

It  is  plain  enough,  too,  that  Mr.  Arnold  is,  as  he  ought  to 
be,  so  much  at  home  in  English  literature  that  the  influence 
of  its  great  thinkers  and  writers  frequently  shows  itself  in  his 
thoughts  and  the  turn  of  his  expressions.  Even  Nature  is 
constantly  repeating  herself  :  this  we  may  see  in  odors  and 
flavors,  which  are,  as  it  were,  the  moral  character  of  plants. 
Vanilla  and  heliotrope,  black  birch  and  checkerbcrry,  are 
familiar  examples  ;  and  some  may  have  noticed  that  the  wild 
blackberry  in  certain  localities  will  give  the  taste  of  other 
fruits  it  knows  little  or  nothing  of,  —  as  of  tlie  strawberry, 
the  raspberry,  and  the  pine-apple.  It  is  impossible  for  such 
an  artist  as  Mr.  Arnold  not  to  remind  us,  whether  by  mere 
coincidence  or  unconscious  imitation,  of  the  great  masters 
and  the  favorite  authors.  .  .  . 

These  coincidences   may  amuse   a  reader,  but   they  are 


NOTICES.  23 

of  small  account.  All  literature,  we  might  say,  without  un- 
pardonable extravagance,  lives  by  borrowing  and  lending. 
A  good  image  is  like  a  diamond,  which  may  be  set  a  hundred 
times  in  as  many  generations  and  gain  new  beauties  with 
every  change.  A  good  story  once  told  fits  itself  with  fresh 
scenery  and  new  heroes  and  heroines,  as  it  lasts  from  age  to 
age  and  passes  from  land  to  land.  A  great  ideal  character 
once  projected  is  immortal,  whether  it  is  a  portrait  or  a  fancy 
picture  ;  indeed,  the  surest  preservative  of  a  real  character  is 
to  idealize  it,  —  as  the  Greeks  did  with  Hercules,  as  we  have 
done  with  Washington.  The  reader  of  the  poem  we  have 
been  looking  over  together  has  before  him  one  of  the  world's 
greatest  ideal  characters,  in  a  narrative  embodying  some  of 
the  most  striking  legends  of  the  story-telling  East,  all  woven 
together  in  the  richest  and  most  effective  phrases  of  an  afflu- 
ent English  vocabulary.  To  lay  down  this  poem  and  take  up 
a  book  of  popular  rhymes  is  like  stepping  from  the  carpet  of  a 
Persian  palace  upon  the  small  tradesman's  Kidderminster, 
or  exchanging  the  shawl  of  an  Indian  empress  for  the  printed 
calico  which  graces  the  matinies  of  the  basement. 


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